


Meant to be Broken

by catsadams



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Pregnancy, basically just tagged all the main characters, hints of garcia x alvez because i adore them :), idk how tags on ao3 works but i think i covered the bases?, rewriting the prison arc bc i hated it :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:21:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 68,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27052603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsadams/pseuds/catsadams
Summary: a drunken NYE conversation leads to a drastic change in yours and spencer’s relationship. it’s what you both want, but can the two of you navigate sex, pregnancy, and co-parenting without spoiling your friendship?
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s), Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 23
Kudos: 137





	1. The Agreement

**series rating: E (18+)**

****_→ chapter rating: M_ **   
**

**_tags: language, mentions of pregnancy, lots of drunkenness_ **

Sometimes, when you thought about it especially hard, you regretted resigning from the BAU. It was technically January, and you were over at a Rossi’s house celebrating New Years, and as you looked at your former coworkers it started hitting you particularly hard.

Your time at the BAU gave you many things— a fear of basements, a lot of stories to tell your therapist, and a pretty awful scar on your shoulder where you were struck by a bullet. But among all the bad, there was a lot of good— mainly your lasting relationships with the members of the team. 

The champagne was free-flowing, and a lot of the team had tipped past the blurry line between tipsy and shitfaced. Penelope, JJ, and Alvez were shining examples, struggling through karaoke and drinking games that were _probably_ not coworker appropriate. You lingered in the safe zone of being amusingly tipsy as you sipped at the drinks that Emily was incredibly good at making. 

The couch dipped beside you and you grinned at Reid, leaning into his shoulder as the bubbly drink lowered your inhibitions. “Long time no see, Spence,” you joked, snuggling into his side as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. 

You were very bad at reading Spencer Reid. Certainly not as good as Morgan or JJ, or even Blake. But the fact that he was actually sort of cuddling with you seemed like an interesting sign, even if your profiling days were long over. “I saw you last week at brunch,” he noted defensively. “You ignored me the entire time.”

“I never get to see Kate or Morgan anymore, I see you all the time, _neighbor._ Speaking of, you’ve been a little MIA recently. I usually bump into you on laundry day.” He shrugged as you yawned sleepily, feeling like you were gradually leaving the tipsy state of mind into somewhere far more dangerous. “Have you been avoiding me, Dr. Reid?”

His face went pink, and he was quick to shake his head ardently. He stumbled his way through some amalgamation of an apology and an explanation. His penchant for rambling combined with the alcohol coursing through his veins made for sentences that were _nearly_ gibberish, which was honestly quite funny to watch. 

Finally you interrupted him, grabbing his arm with a mischievous grin. “Wanna go shot for shot and quiz each other on Doctor Who trivia?”

Fucked up was a kind way to put it, and Reid was no better off than you were. You’d escaped into Rossi’s back yard, where you sprawled across his patio furniture as you giggled your way through quasi-nonsensical conversations about your favorite TV shows, and old inside jokes that had almost been forgotten on your part. Finally, the conversation dipped into more personal waters, which you were far too intoxicated to care about.

“I got to babysit for one of the other professors in the psych department,” you said, a dopey grin on your face. “And her _baby…_ was _so cute_. And the entire time I was just like, _fuck_ , man, I really want to be a mom, you know?”

“I do too!” He laughed, pouring himself another drink as you giggled.

“I’m in my _thirties_ ,” you groaned, pouting as you laid yourself across his lap, looking up at him. “You know… I have a solid income _and_ a guest room. I could go to a clinic and get inseminated like… right now if I wanted. I mean… I’ve already talked to my doctor about it.”

Spencer giggled and tequila spilled down his chin, which only made the two of you laugh harder. He said something that sounded vaguely like _turkey baster_ , and then you were laughing until you couldn’t breathe. 

You sat up, fingers trailing the lines of his face while he stared at you, his lips turned up in an amused smile. “Your kid… is going to have _amazing_ genetics. The bone structure, the brains, the _height_. Your kid is gonna kick my kid into the dirt.”

“They’ll also get a genetic predisposition to more than a few mental illnesses.”

“Mmm… fair point,” you mused, frowning as you caught a taste of stale alcohol on your tongue. “ _But_ they’ll have you as a dad, which I don’t think anyone can beat.”

He shook his head, blushing as you pressed a kiss to his nose. You loved Spencer, really. You loved the entire BAU, old and new, but your time spent working side by side with Spence, and even living right across the hall meant the most to you. It wasn’t long before practically all of your time outside of work was spent by his side. You might not have been _his_ best friend, but he was yours. 

_God, that was sad_. 

“Your kid is going to be _so nice_ ,” he finally said, turning to face you, saying it like it was one of the millions of facts he kept locked in his head. “You’re the most empathetic, loving person I know, so they’re set in that area. Genetically, they’ll be perfect. I mean, look at you.” Heat fanned out in your chest and cheeks at the words, but he didn’t seem to notice what he’d said. “And you’re really smart too, so obviously you’ll pass that on. _Your_ _kid_ is going to be the best.”

You didn’t know what to say, because the only thought in your head was-- _are we flirting through hypothetical descriptions of our best genetics that we’ll likely pass onto our kids?_ You took another shot and laid back into his lap, staring up at him with a dopey grin. Yeah… this is probably a conversation you’ll regret in the morning. 

“Wouldn’t it be so easy for us to just have a kid?” You said suddenly, laughing delightedly. “They’d be literally perfect. So sweet and smart and cute like you, and… everything you said about me.”

His mouth fell open, amusement lacing his features. Another shot of tequila spilled down his throat, the bottle drained. You were amazed that he could even tolerate _that much_ alcohol without needing his stomach pumped. “Why don’t we do it then?” He asked suddenly.

you shrugged, laughing as you gave an unladylike yawn and curled against his lap. “Mmm… we should. We’d have the best fuckin’ kid in… in _ever_.” Your eyes fluttered, but before you could fall asleep you heard the door swing open. Penelope and Em hurried into the backyard, no better off than either of you. 

You felt Penelope’s nails along your back and you gave a contented hum as she talked to Spencer, their words muffled by his sweater covering your ears.

“Hun, it’s three in the morning,” you heard Emily say after the sweater had been moved, annoyingly coherent. “You’re going to freeze if you stay out here any longer. Can the two of you get inside?”

“I’ll get agent pretty boy inside soon,” you slurred. Whatever happened after that was lost to an alcoholic haze.

New Years Eve was a mistake. You would be the first to admit that it was a fucking miracle that your liver handled the tequila and champagne. And seeing as you woke up to a raided wine cabinet in your apartment, the surprise was warranted.

Your silver dress was in a heap by the door, your heels kicked off haphazardly beside it. That was the extent to which you got ready for bed that night, it seemed. Your hair was still in its updo, your face still heavy with makeup. You stood, wobbling on your legs as you made your way into your bedroom.

When you walked in, you didn’t expect to see a human-shaped lump in your bed. Acting on instinct, you grabbed a book from your bookshelf and threw it at the figure.

“ _Ow._ (Y/N), what the hell?”

You watched as Spencer Reid sat up, still slightly dressed, hair unkempt. You were acutely aware of the fact that You were wearing nothing but a silk slip, which was admittedly better than nothing. Realization dawned on him as he took in the confusion in your face, and he went straight into a ramble. 

“I threw my keys into the woods behind Rossi’s before we got into the Uber,” he explained sheepishly. “That’s what Penelope said, at least. Apparently JJ filmed it, but she’s still sleeping off her hangover. I would’ve taken the couch but you kind of just… stripped and passed out on it. Nothing happened.”

You grabbed at your head, the throbbing too much to bear. “I didn’t think anything happened, Spence, you just scared me. You can stay until you manage to get back into your apartment. I should have a collection of extra toothbrushes beneath my sink from my BAU traveling days, and you can hop in the shower as soon as I wash last night off of me.”

He nodded, and watched as you grabbed a change of clothes from your armoire and headed into the bathroom. The shower felt like heaven. Each curl of steam dancing past your eyes, the hot rush of water stinging as it spilled down your back. You washed your makeup off of your face gingerly, wincing as your mascara got into your eyes. It was shorter than you would have liked, but you felt guilty making Spencer wait alone in your apartment.

There was also a part of you wondering what he could gather from where you lived. It wasn’t as though he’d never been in your house. He was your neighbor, and at practically any inconvenience he experienced with his apartment, he’d steal away to yours. He’d never been into your bedroom, though, and the fact that he currently _was_ there now made you nervous. 

You stepped into the bedroom, taking a deep breath of the cool air, only to be greeted by an empty room. Your brows furrowed as you looked around, only to be greeted by the smell of something sweet.

Spencer sat on the couch, offering a delighted smile as he held up a plate of muffins. You raised a skeptical brow as you sat, taking one of the sweets into your hands. “I didn’t know you could cook,” you said before taking a testing bite. It was _good_ , and you were a little frustrated that you’d had all the ingredients in your pantry and hadn’t been able to come up with anything of the sort. 

“I’m a terrible cook,” he admitted with a laugh. “Baking is all about precision and exact measurements. Cooking is a lot more about taste, experience, and intuition.”

“Well… now I can tell everyone that you can’t keep getting out of potlucks. And I also expect homemade baked goods at my door _at least_ once a week.” He nodded, smiling around a mouthful of muffin as he rushed to finish and head into the shower. It was fifteen minutes until he got back, and you managed to eat one more of the muffins before he trudged out of your room, now only clad in his boxers and his white button up shirt.

“Wow, Spence… very Risky Business of you.” His face went pink as he rolled his eyes, settling back beside you on the couch.

You laid back, stretching your legs across his lap as you queued up the game show network on TV. If you were playing trivia or word games with Spence, you were absolutely _fucked_ , but you could wipe the floor with him in Family Feud and public opinion games, which was always a point of pride. 

His fingers ran across your legs absentmindedly as you both talked about the night prior, trying to piece together certain events that had gone blurry. “Okay, at three we definitely raided Rossi’s pantry to make fettuccini alfredo.”

“ _No_ , that happened after Tara made the second run to the liquor store,” Spencer said firmly. “You’re thinking about when Derek and Rossi thought they could beat me at poker.”

“You’re right. Fuckin’ cheater,” you accused with a grin. “One drink in and suddenly I thought I was smart enough to beat a card counter. Now I know why you’re banned from casinos.”

“You have a tell, though. I could have beaten you without counting the cards anyway,” he says plainly, meeting your gaze. You furrow your brow skeptically and he grins. “You act really indifferent when you have a decent hand, lots of… shrugging and brushing things off. You try to do the same thing when you have a bad hand but… there’s a bit of a defensiveness to it. Your pitch goes up, your fingers fidget. You won’t even touch your chips, like you’re reluctant to bet.”

You groan, nudging him with your foot. “I can profile you too, you know that?” You said pointedly. “Like… last night, when I was laying in your lap and talking about wanting a baby you started fidgeting, and your voice got really squeaky and excited.” He makes a face and you point at him accusingly. “ _Also_ … you were very quick to suggest that we actually do it. I was speaking completely hypothetically. You give yourself away too easily, Spencer Reid.”

He made a noise, a mix between an indignant and a defensive cry. You just grinned and sat up, nodding towards the kitchen. “Coffee?” He nodded, and that was that. 

The next time you saw Spencer, he was waiting at your door after work, bruised and battered after a rough run-in with an unsub. It had been a few weeks since New Years, and you’d both been far too busy to bump into one another. Spencer had been gone on case after case, and his sudden disappearance from the laundry room meant the odds of bumping into him were slim. 

“Hey,” you said as you fumbled with your keys. He stepped out of the way and you sighed, hip checking the door open. “Everything okay?”

He nodded, still weirdly quiet for someone who you haven’t talked to in weeks. _Okay…_ “Do you want to come in? I was going to order takeout anyway.”

“I don’t want to intrude, but I’ll stay if you want.” You nodded, hiding your grin as you set your purse and book bag down on your hall tree. _Very_ subtle for someone waiting for you to get home.

He followed you into the kitchen, silent like he had something to say but was quietly rehearsing all the ways he could say it. He offered a quiet _thanks_ as you slid him a soda from your fridge, sparing you any lectures on just how unhealthy they were. The room was silent, save for the pleasing _crack_ of the can opening. You took a sip and gave a contented sigh, opting to sit atop the counter so you could be eye level with Spencer. 

Things had been… weird. He had routines, usually, things he wasn’t late for and didn’t miss. Wednesday laundry was definitely top of the list. One time you’d even brought snacks so you could talk and eat over the rumbling machines while you waited. After two weeks of his absence (even on Friday, when everything you accidentally forgot made its way into the wash), you felt like something was definitely up. Pairing that with his radio silence on all fronts… it didn’t feel too good. 

“How long were you waiting outside of my door, Spence?” You asked, putting a hand on his arm. He tensed beneath your touch for a moment before relaxing. “Five minutes, then I dropped my stuff at my apartment and came back. After that it was no more than two or three.”

“So something’s up,” you said, careful not to push too hard. “And I feel like it’s been on your mind for a while.” He nodded and you gave him a soft smile, wishing you were brave enough to reach up and cradle his face, or even just let your fingers toy with his hair comfortingly. He looked down, and you winced at the sight of the purple bruise beneath his eye, and the blood crusted above his brows and on his lip. “Why don’t you let me clean you up? It makes me sad to see you all beat up like this. And… if you want to talk about it, we can talk about it.”

He nodded, and you hopped off the counter, leading him into your bathroom. The two of you sat on the edge of the tub as cold water ran from the tap. He flinched as you dabbed at his brow with the cloth, revealing a small gash in his skin. “Do I want to ask?”

He laughed, shaking his head as his nose scrunched at the stinging sensation. “It’s not as interesting as-- _ow--_ as you think.” You nodded, remembering your fair share of cuts and bruises from your time at the BAU.

Gently, you brushed his hair back with your free hand, dragging the cloth towards his hairline, where the dried blood remained. His eyes fluttered closed and a smile turned up your lips at the sight. “Your hair has gotten so long,” you noted, brushing it back behind his ear. “It reminds me of when we first met.”

He laughs, shaking his head as you dab alcohol onto this cut, at which point the laughter promptly stops. “ _Ow_!” You grin, muttering something about him being a big baby before you rinse the cut once more with soap and water. “I remember struggling to maneuver on my crutches when the new girl shut the elevator doors on me.”

“ _Ugh,_ don’t remind me,” you said, rinsing out the cloth in the cold water once more. You were so scared on your first day at the BAU, desperate to impress the team. Not wanting to be late, you shut the doors without thinking… much to Spencer’s dismay. You didn’t even realize what you’d done until he brought it up about a year later, at which point you couldn’t really be embarrassed about it. 

Carefully, you reached up, holding his chin in place as you cleaned the cut on his lip. It wasn’t bad-- a little swollen and bruised, maybe a little bloody, but nothing that wouldn’t disappear in a few days. “I had such a schoolgirl crush on you back then, Spence,” you mused, lips curling up at the memories. “Every time you sat next to me on the jet I just about died. I was terrified every time I opened my mouth that I might embarrass myself in front of you.”

His eyes went wide as he tried to talk around your doctoring. “I didn’t know,” he said softly. You shrugged. It was in the past now, no harm done. “You could never have embarrassed yourself in front of me. God, (Y/N), I worshipped the ground you walked on.”

You felt a sort of sadness in the pit of your stomach, as the cruel part of you thought about the _what-ifs_. It was painful and sad, to know that things could have been different, all those years ago. “Maybe we should’ve been better profilers,” you said. It went quiet, and you weren’t quite sure if there was anything else to say. After a while, it got unbearable and you knew you needed space before you blurted about something you shouldn’t. With a sigh, you wrung out the cloth and shut off the tap. “Dr. Reid, I prescribe you an ice pack to keep on that nasty bruise of yours. I’ll go grab it from the freezer.” 

When you went to get up, he grabbed your hand, and you felt your heart stammer in your chest. “Would you really have a kid with me?”

Your brows furrowed, until you remembered New Years. Had he been wondering that this whole time? “Spence…” You trailed off, not sure _what_ to say. “I think you’re perfect. And I think if we had a kid they’d be just like you and that would be amazing. But that’s crazy, isn’t it?”

“But we love each other, right?” He said. “I mean, I love you, so much. Even if it isn’t the way that most people who have kids together do.”

You snorted at the _most_ modifier, lips turning up into a smile. “I love you too, Spencer. You’re my best friend,” you said softly. “But I don’t want anything to change between us. And if we actively like… _tried_ for a baby that would change so much.”

“I just wanted you to know that if you want… the option is there,” he said with a half smile. “Thanks for cleaning me up.” You nodded, leaning down to kiss the crown of his head. 

You wanted to pretend that _if_ you said yes, nothing would go wrong. That sleeping with Spencer wouldn’t change how you saw each other. That maybe you wouldn’t wind up hating him, or worse, that he wouldn’t wind up hating you. That it wouldn’t all be too hard and one of you wouldn’t walk away. That maybe all of this wasn’t way over your head.

But… another part couldn’t help but imagine how _good_ it could be. 

“Give me some time to think,” you said finally, squeezing his hand. “Just promise that no matter what I do you’ll be by my side?”

He nodded, and all at once it felt like all your worries were gone, at least for a little while. 

**12:35 PM, two days later**

**(Y/N):** Did you know that it costs up to $2000 per appointment to get inseminated? With insurance?

**Spencer:** I’m at a crime scene.

**Spencer:** But no, I didn’t know that. I’ve never really looked into it.

**Spencer:** Really I’m at a crime scene though so I have to go. Talk to you later?

**(Y/N):** Why don’t we just talk over lunch when you’re back so I don’t distract you? Good luck with the case, Spence! I know you’ll figure it out. 

Three days later, you sat across from Spencer in your kitchen over two bowls of pho from the Vietnamese restaurant you both like. He was glad to have food that he actually liked, rather than the cheap food he usually went for when he was working a case. When you were still on the team, you, Spencer, and Emily would go out to your favorite restaurants practically the minute you stepped off the jet. 

“Mmm, this is really hot today,” you said around a mouthful of broth and noodles. The silver of his spoon glinted beneath the light from outside the window as he stirred, and stirred, and stirred. A frown turned your lips. “You aren’t eating.”

“Maybe seeing you talk with your mouth full is spoiling my appetite,” he said back, a smile turning up his lips. You gave a pout in response, but your mind was on the deflection. You knew that his mind was on your last discussion, and to be fair, yours hadn’t been many other places either. “Sorry… rough case.”

“Oh, I didn’t know,” was all you could say. “I should’ve let you pick lunch, then, Spence, I’m sorry. Next time, I promise.”

“No, you picked really good food,” He said, looking up at you. “It isn’t your fault that my appetite is gone.”

You nodded. All that could be heard was the sound of spoons scraping porcelain and soft sounds of the two of you trying to breathe as quietly as possible. Finally it was unbearable and you put down your chopsticks and spoon so you could finally speak your mind. 

“Uh… I’ve been thinking a lot about what we talked about last time you were over,” you said. He choked on his broth and clumsily cleaned himself up, brows furrowed as he took in what you’d said. “Like… I had such a hard time focusing during my lectures because I kept weighing the pros and cons, and then I was googling like… everything I could find, and talking to my doctors too. Because I’m serious about it, Spence, I really do want to be a mom.”

He nodded, unsure if he should say something or wait for you to talk it out. You were interrupting his thoughts before he could even decide, though. 

“And the more I thought about it the more I was just stuck on the thought of my kid never knowing their dad, and how sad it made me. And then I thought of you, and how you genuinely offered, and then I thought about how amazing of a parent you’ll be and I just couldn’t see it happening any other way. Also… insemination is really fucking expensive.”

He laughed, his face lighting up as you wiggled your brows. “So, Spencer Reid. Will you be my baby daddy?”

“God, when you put it that way I want to say no,” he said, pushing his bowl aside. Then you were laughing, and he was laughing, and any kernel of worry or anxiety within you disappeared. “Yeah. Of course I will.”

\----

You weren’t stupid. You knew to draft rules and agreements for how it would go down and what would transpire. 

_One_ : You wouldn’t just jump straight into sex because it felt too weird, but you also couldn’t just get inseminated and avoid it because… well… Spencer put it best when he noted that the frequency of appointments couldn’t hold a candle to the average male refractory period (in layman’s terms, of course).

Spencer, however, suggested a preliminary period of dates around the city, maybe even across the country, depending on where the job took him and if you could sneak out of a few lectures. 

_Two_ : You wouldn’t tell the team until one of you gets caught. That was your rule. Not because you don’t love them, because you both absolutely do, but because like it or not, they’re total gossips and you weren’t really into the idea of your business being passed around like front page news. Spencer’s caveat, though, was that he wouldn’t lie to his friends, which you completely understood. 

_Three_ : Lifetime commitment. Both of you knew it had to be on the list. The absence of Spencer’s father as he grew up was a wound that had never healed, you knew that. Neither of you could let that happen. 

_Four_ : Complete transparency. No hurt feelings, no judgement. Both of you can say whatever is on your mind and talk about it like grownups, or you really shouldn’t have a kid together. 

_Five_ : The agreement won’t change how we feel about each other. 

Even as you wrote it down onto the paper and signed it in your best cursive, you were dubious that you could even commit to rule number five. Spencer signed his name, and you folded the page, tucking it behind the potted plant beside your toaster. 

It was crazy and both of you were completely unprepared for whatever the next few months had in store, research or no… but when Spencer went back to work and you settled on your couch, alone in your flat… you couldn’t keep the dopey smile off of your face. 


	2. To-Do List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so, you and your best friend Spencer decide to have a kid together. obviously, there’s some ground to cover before you actually dive in.

**series rating: E (18+)**

****_→ chapter rating: E (18+)_ **  
**

**_tags: language, SMUT (unprotected sex, pregnancy. reader and spence are both switches because that’s the way the cookie crumbles), mutual pining_ **

“Breathe for me,” you whispered, brushing the hair from his face. “You’re too tense. This is all we’re doing for now, just a tiny little step to start.” He nodded, his nose nearly brushing yours from how close the two of you were. 

Your “dates” had been filling your calendars up since the two of you signed the contract, but calling it a date was almost unfair. It was clearly a platonic event-- not once had either over you even held hands. When you invited him into your apartment he was clearly nervous, rubbing his palms over his thighs over and over to hide how damp and clammy they’d gotten. No amount of wine could help him settle, so the glasses you poured sat untouched.

When you sat him on the couch and moved into his lap, his breaths went shaky. He kept his eyes on you, his hands just barely hovering over your hips. “Put your hands wherever you want,” you said softly. “You can’t really be wrong.”

“No, I know,” he said. “I’ve kissed people before. But… I guess it’s different.” He trailed off, his fingers finding purchase on your hips, holding you tightly against him.

 _Right_ , you thought, brushing his hair back once more, letting your fingers tangle in his hair. _Can’t hurt to make him laugh, right?_ “Spence, if you can’t kiss me, how are you going to get me pregnant?”

[[MORE]]

A choked sound tore from his lips, something between a laugh and a cry of indignation. He nodded nonetheless, his grip on your hips tightening, like he was grounding himself into this moment so he could escape every urgent thought flitting through his head. You met his gaze once more before giving an encouraging nod, and that was all it took before his lips met yours. 

It was a few seconds before either of you got comfortable enough to give it your all. Moments that reminded you of chaste playground kisses as you acquainted yourself with the feeling of his lips. As you shifted your hands in his hair, his mouth parted, and you had the chance to deepen the kiss _just so_.

He shifted beneath you, leaning back so he could pull you closer in. His hands wandered higher, settling on your waist and hiking up your skirt just slightly. You smiled against him parting just slightly to catch your breath. 

It was a few seconds before his eyes opened, brow furrowing in question. “I wanted to check in. Make sure this is okay, y’know. Is it okay?”

“Yeah… Yeah it’s okay,” he said with a smile. “Is it okay for you?” You nod, lips turning up into a grin. _Of course it’s okay_. “Can we keep going?”

A delighted laugh escaped you as you nodded, leaning back in to capture his lips. He was so incredibly eager, reciprocating every movement of your lips equally, moaning against your lips when you brushed your tongue against his. 

Spencer wasn’t extremely experienced, which you didn’t mind, but it did take a while for him to fall into a decent rhythm with you. After that though… Neither of you could get nearly enough of each other. 

“Spence,” you said, your voice no more than a hoarse whisper after what felt like an eternity spent just exploring each other. “Spencer, let’s slow down and catch our breaths.” He nodded, and you sat back on his thighs as you took a deep breath, brushing your hair out of your face. 

You felt hot all over-- uncomfortably so, and you knew you probably looked like a wreck. _Jesus fucking christ_ you’ve only just _kissed._ He shifted beneath you, leaning back against the couch as he took steadying breaths. _Well_ … at least he was no better off than you.

It was easy to blame your reaction on your old crush and the risk of what your plan was. It was one thing to imagine having a kid together hypothetically, and a whole other beast to actually _enact that plan_. 

“You’re a good kisser,” you said after you caught your breath. _Fuck_ , you were annoyingly affected by him.

“You’re just being nice,” he said, scrunching up his nose, a weak smile on his lips. “I’m probably the worst guy you’ve ever been with.”

“ _Hey_ , self-deprecation isn’t cute,” you said pointedly, leaning in to give him one more chaste kiss. When you pulled back, he chased your lips, hungry for more, and _god_ it was tempting… but you didn’t want to go too far, at least not yet. “I had fun tonight, neighbor.”

He smiled and you tugged his hair teasingly, leaning in to kiss his forehead before you climbed off of his lap finally. He yawned lazily, and you took in the unkempt, messy man in front of you. His lips were puffy and his hair was a total mess and you weren’t sure he’d ever looked better. 

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” he said with a half smile, offering you one final chaste kiss before he left for the night. 

One accomplishment down, many, _many_ more to go.

“I just think that, like, even though we aren’t a _couple_ , we shouldn’t be fucking other people,” you say around a sushi roll. Which you wash down with a large sip of iced chai. “Like… I dunno why waste the… _baby batter_ so to speak.”

“I hate how you talk with your mouth open _almost_ as much as I hate the phrase baby batter,” Spencer said, a frown turning his lips. You shot him with a finger gun and smiled, moaning at the taste of your next sushi roll. He looked around quickly, cheeks turning pink as he gives an apologetic wave to the older couple beside him. “(Y/N), we are in _public_.”

“Spence, I had coffee for breakfast and lunch,” you said plainly. “Forgive me for thoroughly enjoying the lunch my best friend is treating me to.”

“Enjoy it while you can. Consuming raw fish during pregnancy is _highly_ discouraged because of the risk of exposure to bacteria and mercury that could harm the baby.” He punctuated his sentence by popping a sushi roll in his mouth, and you desperately wanted to kiss the smug grin off of his face. _God_ he loves sounding smart. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love hearing him talk about anything and everything that popped into his head. 

But he was Spencer. Your closest friend, someone whose love meant too much to risk. You decided to take his word for it and finished your meal gratefully, savoring each and every bite until it was all gone. 

You couldn’t help thinking that if it all worked and you went through with it, Spencer would always be a part of your life. A permanent fixture, no matter what. It made everything feel right, and everything feeling right meant it _had_ to be right. Didn’t it?

“So… what are we doing tonight?” Spencer asked as you both headed down the street, trying to walk off the icky full feeling after that particularly delicious meal. 

You shrugged, turning around to face him as you walked backwards, careful to avoid vendors and street signs as you went. “I think we should see each other naked.” He blanched, at a loss for words as you turned back around and fell into stride beside him once more. “I’m not saying we have to _do_ anything, Spence, but it’s the natural progression of things. I feel like if we just… _hop into it_ we’ll be really nervous and uncomfortable and overwhelmed and how will that help anything? We’ll get most of the nerves out of the way tonight, and then _maybe_ next weekend we have sex.”

“Next weekend?” He asked suddenly, his voice squeaky and nervous. 

“ _Oh_ , we don’t have to, Spencer,” you insisted. “I just kind of figured because, y’know, my calendar says I’ll be ovulating then.” You paused, pulling him to the side of the street to grab his hand. He could hardly even meet your gaze. “Are you sure you want to do this with me? You don’t have to, I promise you, Spence, I’ll get it.”

“No it’s not that I don’t want to,” he said firmly. “I guess I’m just… realizing how serious it is. I know this means a lot to you, and it means a lot to me too, really, but… there’s so much that can go wrong that I can’t even properly wrap my head around everything I need to prepare for.”

You lean up and give him a soft peck on the lips and he relaxes, pulling you closer as he instinctively deepened the kiss. _Fuck,_ you thought as you pulled back, your face hot and your stomach full of butterflies _, we’re in public._

_Was that a weird thing to do to a friend?_ “Remember when you were scared to kiss me?” You asked, brushing your hair back as you tried to compose yourself.. “You’ll get used to it, I’ll get used to it… and eventually we’ll wonder what we were so nervous about.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said, pulling you back onto the sidewalk so you could continue back to his apartment for the night. 

\----

This time, you drank the wine. At least half a bottle before you stood in front of each other in Spencer’s bedroom. This time, your palms were sweating, and you couldn’t stop fidgeting with the hem of your blouse. 

_Goddammit,_ you thought, watching as Spencer drained his glass finally _, this was your fucking idea and you’re over here shaking like a timid little maiden._

Both of your shoes were carefully discarded, placed neatly at the foot of the bed beside Spencer’s converse. He sat on the end of his bed, taking off his socks carefully. You felt yourself smile at the sight of the different styles of dinosaur socks that he had paired together. You liked his little quirks, how carefully he followed each one. 

Finally, he stood up, standing across from you with an impressive sense of confidence. Just earlier you were convincing _him_ not to be nervous, and here you are, feeling like fainting at the prospect of what you’re about to do. 

“Okay. One piece at a time?” You asked, fingers toying with the hem of your blouse. Spencer nodded and you took a steadying breath before lifting your shirt off of your body. 

Goosebumps prickled across your skin, and you fought the urge to cross your arms across your chest to retain some modesty. _This is Spencer,_ you reminded yourself. _Spencer Reid isn’t some asshole you bring home from the bar. He’s your best friend and you love each other._

Your eyes locked on his fingers as he carefully unbuttoned his shirt, his hands pale against the plum colored fabric. It took everything within you to keep from making a sound as he shrugged the shirt from his shoulders, your eyes raking over his exposed skin. This was the least composed you’d ever seen him— shirtless, fingers fidgeting in anticipation.

When his eyes met yours, you took a careful breath and unbuttoned your jeans, pulling them down your legs and kicking them aside. You felt exposed, despite still having your underwear on. _This is Spencer, this is Spencer, this is Spencer._ Your mind screamed it as every cell in your body told you to be ashamed. 

You liked that he was respectful about it. How he took in the sight of you, a faint blush on his cheeks, offered a smile and copied your action. His legs were just as lanky as the rest of him, and you found yourself grinning at the patterned boxers he wore. 

“What are those?” You asked as you moved your fingers to the clasp of your bra. You raised a brow and he laughed. 

“I think they’re Christmas trees,” he said with a shrug, glancing down at the green fabric. When he glanced back up, his words disappeared. “ _Oh._ ”

Your brow arched higher as you glanced down at your own bare breasts. “Oh?” You asked, a frown turning your lips.

“No! Not a bad _oh_ , just a… _Oh,_ ” he said quickly.

You nodded, trying your hardest not to reach up and cover yourself. “I’ll remember that when you take _those_ off,” you tease, gesturing to his boxers.

And he took them off without hesitation, which successfully shut you up. You swallowed, trying not to be disrespectful in your observations. Because you and the girls _talk_ when you get drunk, nothing super disgusting or abhorrent, but you liked to play guessing games with the other single girls sometimes. And _fuck_ you all guessed _very_ wrong about one Spencer Reid.

A primal part of you wanted him then. No more waiting weeks, dates, and dipping your toes in. And that was fucked up because you weren’t even ovulating then and the sight of his dick was making you want to throw caution to the wind. It wasn’t like you haven’t had sex in a while, but it _was_ like you were incredibly intrigued and interested in knowing Spencer like no one else did.

Before he could call you out on your staring, you slipped your panties down your legs and the two of you stood there, taking in the sight of one another. Truly, it seemed a lot different in The Notebook. Again, he gave a quick once over of your body and went straight back to your eyes as you shifted your weight from one foot to another.

“I don’t know what to do next,” you admitted with a sheepish laugh. “Uh… you have a really good body though, Spence.” 

He gave a timid smile, nodding awkwardly. “Thanks. Um, so do you.” Any more awkward and you’re certain that you would have curled up in a ball and died. “Um… do you want to put our clothes back on now?”

You gave a sigh of relief, grabbing your underwear from beneath your feet so you could pull them back up your legs. It was quiet as you both dressed, turned around for privacy, for God’s sake. When you turned around, you noticed that Spencer hadn’t buttoned his shirt up right in his hurry to redress. A giggle escaped you, and he stopped, furrowing his brows in your direction. 

“Spence… hold on just let me--” You finished buttoning your pants and walked towards him, carefully undoing the buttons while his hands hover by his sides. You were careful to rebutton his shirt, fingertips barely brushing the warm skin of his chest and stomach. He shivered and you laughed, finishing up the buttons before you step back. “There we are.”

His cheeks were flushed, and he grabbed his watch, fastening it quickly before he disappeared into his closet. You furrowed your brows, but ultimately decided to shrug it off, settling on his bed with a contented sigh. He had decent taste in mattresses, though it was a little too soft for your taste. He had terrible posture, so you didn’t really blame him for wanting a cushion-y bed at night. 

His blankets were worn-- the type of thing that he didn’t think to spend his money on. Of course the genius Dr. Reid would rather splurge on first editions and rare translations than a quilt that isn’t threadbare. It was soft, though, and smelled sweet like he did. You reclined against the pillows, turning onto your side lazily. “Spence? Can I borrow pajamas?”

“Um… yeah.”

When he finally emerged, he wore a blush and a burgundy sweatshirt with plaid pajama pants that dragged the floor even on him. You grinned as he threw one of his cardigans your way, followed by another pair of pajama pants. You changed quickly, comfortably unbothered by being undressed around Spencer. Well… at least that whole exercise worked for something. 

You buttoned up the cardigan as much as you could, though you were incredibly conscious of the fact that it was incredibly low cut. You relished in the softness of the fabric… cashmere? _Well_ , you thought, _at least I know Spencer likes to splurge on some nice things_.

“Comfortable?” He asked, turning on his side to face you on the bed. You nodded, smiling softly over at him. “Good. I was thinking that next weekend you could stay over here after.”

 _After_ … right. You nodded again, intertwining your fingers with his for a moment. He looked so timid, but so hopeful. You didn’t want him to lose that bit of himself, not ever. 

**_“BAU BUDDIES GROUPCHAT”,_ ** **12:05 PM, one week later** **_._ **

**Penelope:** Hey!! Let’s go out for drinks tonight! It’s been forever!

 **Em:** How can I say no to drinks? Tell me it’s ladies night please.

 **JJ:** Nope. Boy genius and the newbie are in here.

 **Luke** : It’s like that?

 **Em:** Oh it’s absolutely like that.

\---

**Private Message with Spencer Reid 12:06 PM**

**(Y/N):** I know we have plans tonight. Should we make an appearance at the bar to avoid suspicion?

 **Spencer** : A recent study has shown that fertility is negatively impacted by heavy drinking so I wouldn’t think it would be in our best interest. Caffeine too.

 **(Y/N):** Hmmmm fair point :(

 **Spencer:** I think a glass a day should be fine.

 **(Y/N):** Doctor’s orders? ;)

 **Spencer:** Stop.

\---

**_“BAU BUDDIES GROUPCHAT”,_ ** **12:10 PM**

**JJ:** (Y/N), Spence, you guys are being very quiet.

 **(Y/N):** Working on drafting a midterm exam :(

 **Em:** Wow… have fun grandma.

 **Penelope:** Spencer?

 **Spencer:** Count me out this time, but next time maybe.

 **Luke:** Damn. I need a wingman.

You were five minutes late, which was definitely on purpose. Fifteen minutes late seemed too bitchy and uncaring, and getting there right on time felt too eager. Five minutes seemed decently nonchalant. But as soon as you knocked on the door there was Spencer, opening it before you could even drop your hand back to your side. 

“Why are you late? you’re right across the hall.” Spencer said as you slipped through the door, dropping your overnight bag beside the door in case things got awkward and you needed a quick escape. 

“I was getting ready,” you lied, giving him an apologetic set of puppy dog eyes. Were you supposed to tell the truth, that you were trying to play it cool so you could pretend your nerves weren’t eating you alive? “Sorry for keeping you waiting, Spence.”

“I ordered dinner if you’re hungry. I hope you like seafood, because I read that wild caught salmon has fatty acids and omega-3s which have been proven to boost fertility. I also bought pineapple because even though it isn’t backed by science, some people believe that eating it can help aid the implantation process after ovulation.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” To be fair, Spencer always seemed to know a million things that you didn’t. “Sure, I could go for a bite.”

His kitchen table was covered with books, and you both had to make a space in order to eat. Your fingers brushed over the spine of a French edition of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and you smiled at the thought of him poring over it. It was quiet as you both ate, forks scraping against the porcelain plates. 

Your phone buzzed loudly, and you glanced down at the screen to see a text from Emily, asking you to come out and join them at the bar, accompanied by a picture of her and JJ. You grinned, typing back a quick, _I’m busy,_ before shutting your phone.

Your plate was scraped clean before long, as was his, and you were incredibly conscious of where the night was headed, and guessing by the way his hands fidgeted against the table, so was Spencer. 

“Do you want to go sit on the couch?” You asked, raising a brow. “We can just talk for a bit, if you want.”

“Mhmm,” he said, nervousness making his voice higher.

He had to clear a spot for the two of you on the couch too, moving books and journals to the coffee table. You sat first, patting the spot beside you. When he settled, you spared a glance at his hands, noting the slight tremor as he moved them into his lap. 

You shifted closer so your thighs were touching and the slight contact made Spencer’s breath catch for just an instant. Your hand settled on his knee and slowly made its way up to his thigh. “Do you want to tell me what you like, Spence?”

“Like?”

You nodded, giving his thigh a gentle squeeze. “What you like… How you want this to go.”

“Some lubricants can actually work as a spermicide so--”

“I don’t want you to give me facts. I want to know what you like and what you want. Can you tell me that, Spence?”

He closed his eyes, his lips pressing together as he nodded. When he released them, you became conscious of how kissable they are, and how you wanted to kiss him again, and soon. His tongue darted across his lips carefully and you found your eyes fixed to the sight. 

“I-- I don’t know. It’s all really overwhelming.”

“That’s okay,” you said softly, leaning in to kiss the line of his jaw. His breath shuddered as he instinctively tilted his head, allowing you more access. “Just follow my lead, touch me how you want, and tell me to stop when you want. Does that sound alright?”

He nodded and you gave him one final soft kiss before climbing into his lap. He moved his hands to your hips, just like when you’d kissed the first time, and you gave an encouraging nod. He swallowed, looking up at you with those pretty eyes of his. 

You put your hands on top of his and rolled your hips, relishing in the way his breath caught in his throat at the sensation. “You want me to keep going?” You asked, lips meeting the skin beneath his ear. He nodded and you smiled, whispering against his skin, “Make me then.”

He shuddered beneath you, timidly guiding your hips against him until the temptation was too much. His fingertips held onto you tightly, guiding each movement of your hips the way he liked. _Good_ , you thought _, he can benefit a bit from this too_.

You moved your lips to his once you were sure he felt confident in the role you’d given him, relishing in the hungry way he kissed you. There was no warm up or slow start-- just a desperate clash of tongues and teeth. He moaned against your mouth and you felt hot all over. 

His hands moved from your hips, making their way beneath your dress to grab at your bare skin. Surely you’d have finger shaped bruises on your hips later, but they’d be marks you’d be proud to bear. 

You pulled back, moving your fingers to the buttons of his shirt. As you worked them, he moved his lips to the junction of your throat, learning fast exactly what makes you tick. “Spence,” you gasped, fingers freezing as you took a shaky breath. “I can’t focus with you doing that.”

 _Goddammit._ You could feel his smirk against your skin. 

When you finally got his shirt off, he sat back to pull it off his shoulders, every movement urgent and needy. His lips elicited a moan from you and his hips bucked beneath you. All of a sudden, you became increasingly aware of how hard he was. That realization awakened a deeper need within you, and your stomach fluttered as you decided just what you were going to get yourself into.

He whimpered when you palmed him through his slacks. Literally fucking _whimpered_ and you felt your hunger grow. “I’ve been thinking of this since last week,” you said, rubbing him slowly as you watched his resolve unravel. His head tilted back, moans spilling from his open mouth. “I could barely contain myself, you know that? You’re so fucking beautiful, Spence. All of you, and I just wanted to get my hands on you.”

“ _Fuck_.” The swear slipped from his lips smoothly, even if hearing it made your heart hammer. Something about Dr. Spencer Reid losing his composure made your stomach flutter.

“What do you want, Spence?” You asked gently. “Do you want me to slip my hands into your pants and touch that pretty cock of yours?” He groaned and you felt a grin stretching your lips. “Yeah? Do you deserve it?”

At a loss for words, he simply nodded and you tilted your head up to kiss his lips briefly. _God_ , he was so cute. You obliged him, undoing his pants so you could comfortably slip your hand beneath the band of his boxers. 

“Mmm… fuck,” he groaned, his breathing uneven as you took his length into your hand. He bucked into your touch, urging you to move. Seeing him was one thing but _feeling_ him was something entirely different. He was warm in your hand, twitching desperately. Part of you didn’t want to even give him a handjob out of fear that he’d cum after a few seconds. 

“Can you take it, Spence?” You asked, stroking him teasingly slow. “Tell me if it’s too much.” 

“I can take it. _I can take it I can take it._ ” The words spilled from his lips in a desperate whisper as you worked him in your hand. When he met your gaze, eyes half-lidded and lust filled, you had half a mind to just move your panties to the side and let him fuck you then and there. 

_Fucking hell_. It felt like you’d never been so turned on in your entire life. You captured his mouth with yours, kissing him hungrily until his moan interrupted you. You detached from him with some reluctance and gave a futile attempt to collect yourself when you stood up. He copied your movements, standing obediently-- disheveled and needy. 

You took his hand in yours and headed into the bedroom, where the lights were dim and moonlight filtered in through the thin curtains. When you dropped his hand, you immediately stripped off your dress, heart hammering as you took in the sight of him observing _you_. His eyes hungrily traced your body before he snapped out of his trance and kicks off his shoes, socks, and pants. 

“Can I touch you?” He asked, taking a step closer. 

“Please,” you said softly, closing the distance so you could bring his fingers to the clasp of your bra. With careful movements, he undid the clasp, guiding the straps from your shoulder so they could fall to the ground.

“Lay down for me?”

You did as he asked, positioning yourself against the pillows, back propped comfortably as he settled between your legs, spreading them with a touch so gentle you were half certain he thought you were made of porcelain. 

His lips found your lips first, giving a chaste, easy kiss before trailing to your jaw, then your throat. He stayed there, kissing and nipping at the soft skin there, relishing in each soft gasp and moan that escaped you. 

Then they trailed down to your breasts, leaving timid kisses on the supple skin. Your fingers carded in his hair, encouraging him just enough that he laved them with attention. His tongue teased your nipples, his lips sucked what were sure to be bruises into the valley between your breasts. The slightest nip of his teeth made you yelp and buck your hips against him. 

“Shh…” He said softly, kissing down your stomach, making you squirm and giggle. “I just want to feel you.”

Part of you wanted to beg for more attention, but you were anticipating his next move so much that you didn’t want to interrupt the genius’ thought process and shift the tides. You lifted your hips as he pulled your panties down your legs, discarding them to the side of the room. You should have felt exposed, but you trusted Spencer, you loved him more than anyone else in your life. 

A low moan escaped you as his thumb found your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles. His eyes moved to yours, watching your reaction carefully. You felt his fingertip probe your entrance, dragging the wetness that had gathered there back to your clit. His touch made you whimper, so direct that it made you hypersensitive. 

“Spence,” you gasped. “I don’t want teasing. I want you to fuck me.”

You kept your gaze on him as he pulled off his boxers, and you took in the sight of his hard cock, struck dumb with the realization that he was _literally_ going to fuck you and this wasn’t just all talk. 

He spread your legs gently, parting them so he could fit between them. You took a steadying breath as he positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock brushing against you. “Is this okay?” He asked, meeting your gaze once more. “If you want it another way, or if you’ve changed your mind, we could--”

“I want this. I want you,” You insisted, the anticipation making a pit in your stomach. You let yourself look down, your chest rising and falling as you took in the sight of him slipping into you. A shaky moan escaped you, at the feeling and what you were seeing.

Because he was fucking _deep_ , and you weren’t even sure he was completely sheathed within you yet. By the time he _was_ completely within you, you were sure you’d died and gone to heaven. He gave a strangled moan, resting his arms on either side of your head. You wanted to say something-- _please… more… anything_. But the words wouldn’t form. You leaned up and captured his lips with yours, hoping that conveyed the message well enough. 

Each thrust made you wonder why you’d waited so long to do this. Why you hadn’t started a friends with benefits arrangement _years_ ago. He was responsive, taking in every sound and movement to figure out what you wanted when words failed you. You wrapped your legs around him, urging him deeper and _fuck_ … he gave you exactly what you needed. 

“Just like that,” you gasped, leaning up to press another kiss to his lips. “You feel so good, Spence. Feels fucking perfect.” He leaned down, kissing you sloppily, moaning into your mouth. 

Without thinking, you reached up, bringing two fingers to his lips. He parted them obediently, laving them with his tongue, sucking on them gently. Your walls tightened around him, and you realized that you were utterly fucked. Not just by him (quite literally), but by the knowledge that you would never get the image of Spencer Reid sucking your fingers while he fucked you out of your mind.

You withdrew them slowly, and he looked down at you with lust-darkened eyes as you brought those fingers down to your clit, rubbing quick circles as your high approached rapidly. 

“Spencer,” you gasped, clenching around him. “ _Fuck_. I need you to cum with me. _Please_.” You didn’t give him a lot of time to commit, because it didn’t take long before you were cumming around him, arching into his touch. And, to be fair, he wouldn’t have had much of a choice in the matter. 

You whimpered as he spilled himself within you, hypersensitive as he shallowly thrust, heat filling your belly at the realization of what you did. What you _both_ did. You couldn’t catch your breath, no matter how hard you tried, and when he collapsed lazily on top of you, you didn’t really mind one bit. 

“Thank you,” he said softly, his voice weak. “ _God_ , you felt so good.”

“You were pretty quiet,” you said, running your hands up and down his back gently. 

“I couldn’t exactly manage words.”

“That’s new,” you teased, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “You did so good, Spence. I’m glad it’s you.”

He nodded sleepily, propping himself on his arms so he could slip out of you before he passed out completely. You were about to sit up when he put a firm hand on your shoulder, holding you down. “Fifteen minutes on your back,” he said firmly. “That way you keep it all in.”

 _Jesus fucking christ._ Hearing him say that made you want to cum all over again. 

He turned onto his back, pulling you closer to him. A smile spread across your lips. For someone who hates shaking hands and hugs, he sure did like post-sex cuddling. “Can we have muffins for breakfast?” You asked lazily.

He hummed, a smile turning his lips as you turned your head up to look at him. “How could I ever say no to that face?” He asked, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Twelve minutes and you can get ready for bed. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” you replied. Everything was essentially out of your hands now. All you could do was _exactly_ what you’d just done until it stuck. Secretly, you decided that if it took a while, you wouldn’t really mind.


	3. Trial and Error

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. and again. and again. and a few more times after that. and just one more time to be safe. and maybe a little bit more.

**series rating: E (18+)**

****_→ chapter rating: E (18+)_ **  
**

**_tags: language, SMUT (no literally so much smut. unprotected sex, pregnancy. reader and spence are both switches because that’s the way the cookie crumbles. reader doms, spencer tries to dom, fluffy bathtub sex as well), mutual pining by two idiots who think signing a contract can keep you from catching feelings_ **

“Did you know that Spence has a girlfriend?” JJ asked, glancing in your direction over her mimosa. 

You raised a brow, swallowing down the fancy version of eggs on toast ( _Eggs, Spencer had said, contain lots of vitamins that boost fertility)_ you’d ordered. “No way?” You asked, trying to gauge what she knew. “Is that why he’s been so distant lately?”

Jennifer shrugged, swirling her glass with a furrow in her brow. “I came by his place the other night at around… eight thirty to borrow one of his books. I knocked on the door with no answer, so I used my key and he just ran out of his bedroom half-naked telling me I needed to leave.”

Yeah… you remembered that _clearly_. You’d jumped up and ran into his bathroom to hide while he shooed her off, heart hammering at the risk of being caught. _After_ though… the adrenaline was _definitely_ useful.

[[MORE]]

“Weird,” Penelope said, cutting up her pancakes neatly. “I just can’t picture Spencer having sex… like ever. He’s like a baby brother to me.”

You took a bite, careful not to expose yourself _too much_ as your mind trailed back to the past few nights. Because you absolutely _could_ picture Dr. Spencer Reid having sex. Thoughts of his lips, fingers… _everything_ flooded your mind in the best and worst ways.. You were quick to take a sip of your water, hoping that it would cool you down from the inside out. 

“I just thought he would trust me with whatever’s going on,” JJ says with a sigh. “Whatever, though. I don’t want to push him, and he’ll tell me when he’s ready.”  
“If I see anything I’ll let you know,” you added, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “But _enough_ of Spencer. This is a girl's brunch for once, and that’s what’s important.”

Your phone buzzed in your pocket thirty minutes later, after the conversation had moved from Spencer and onto more boring things like kids, work, and dating. You glanced down and felt your heart leap in your chest. 

**Spencer:** Come over.

\----

“Mmm… just a little more gentle, Spence,” you said, face scrunching up in discomfort at the ache between your thighs. His eyes went wide and he immediately pulled out of you, cradling your face in his hands so he could check in.

“Did you not like it?” He asked, a guilty frown on his lips. 

“On any other day I _definitely_ would have, but I’ve literally had sex with you every single day for the past five days and I’m pretty sore,” you explained. “Maybe we can try again a little slower?”

He nodded, placing a soft kiss to your shoulder that made a smile spread across your lips. He was careful and understanding, fucking into you with slow, tantalizing thrusts that almost made you regret your request that he slow down. Your thighs were still aching, your entire lower half sore and exhausted. 

You’d gone from _maybe_ a hookup a month with a bumble date to constant fucking whenever you or Spence summoned the other over. You hadn’t really realized what a toll that trying to have a baby with Spencer would entail, and a secret part of you wondered when the next case that would send him away would be, if only to give yourself a break to recuperate. 

You weren’t sure if you even could, but Spencer insisted that you _had_ to finish every time. Partly because there’s a widespread belief that the female orgasm helps guide the sperm to the egg, but also because _it’s just what’s fair._ It took a while to let yourself get into the headspace, but eventually you managed to tip over the edge. The feelings of bliss ran through your body, and you made sure to relish in the feeling for as long as you could until you were back in reality-- sore and exhausted. 

“Fifteen minutes,” Spencer reminded you, planting a soft kiss on your stomach. He had started doing that after your third time sleeping together-- kissing you on your belly like it would be some sort of good luck charm. You intertwined your fingers with his, squeezing as your phone ticked down the minutes.

It went quiet in the apartment as Spencer dressed and you covered yourself with the blanket you had started keeping over at his place. He kept the place _freezing_ , almost as if it was only to torture you. You could have mentioned it and he would have jumped to fix it, but you knew he liked bundling up in sweaters and beneath blankets at night so you didn’t press it.

Spencer’s phone ringing interrupted the moment of peace, and he glanced away guiltily as he picked it up. “Hello?” You didn’t want to pry— you figured it was probably work. You’d experienced more than enough phone calls at exactly the wrong moments during your time with the BAU. “Yeah I’ll be right there.”

Your brows furrowed as he stood up suddenly, throwing his go-bag together while you watched silently. “Potential Spree in Santa Fe,” he explained. “We’re getting briefed on the plane. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, pulling the blanket tightly around yourself as you sat up. “Don’t apologize, Spence, it’s your job,” you insisted, grabbing his hand on his next pass. He stopped and took a breath, meeting your gaze. “Be safe for me, okay?”

There was a reluctance in his gaze, a look in his eyes that said he would rather jump back into bed and stay there with you forever than leave. And it made you feel immeasurably guilty that maybe you were starting to mean something to him in a way that had begun to overshadow his work. 

Because the BAU needed Spencer Reid. The victims and the families needed him too, more than you needed him with you. And despite all of that, a selfish part of you wanted him to stay, even just an hour longer. 

You gave his hand one final squeeze before he left to finish getting ready. He trusted you to see yourself out. It was another hour of lying in Spencer’s comfortable bed before you redressed and slipped across the hallway into your own apartment. There was a strange, sluggish quality to you as you readied yourself for bed, but you couldn’t put a finger on why. 

You realized suddenly as you woke up the next morning that you missed Spencer. Maybe it was the empty bed, or the desire that had been spurred by _very_ vivid dreams of him. The latter made shame well up in your stomach at the animal nature of it all, the inability of your body to separate Spencer from sex. Still… you wanted him with you more than anything. 

Everything would’ve been so much more bearable if he was there, holding you in his arms, playing with your hair while he read to you. He had a nice voice for reading, you thought, turning on your side to see the empty expanse of bed beside you. If he _were_ there, he would have already grabbed a book before you woke up and gotten most of the way through it while you were still dreaming. If he were there, he would’ve already made you breakfast so you could have stayed comfortable for as long as possible. 

You wanted to call him, or text him or something just so he’d know that he was still on your mind, but even that felt like some gargantuan step you weren’t prepared to take. With a sigh, you made yourself get up from the bed, stretching in the early morning sunlight.

It wasn’t a secret that you wished your career was more interesting. Teaching was definitely rewarding, but as you removed your clothes to shower and ran your fingers over the scar on your shoulder, then over the jagged scar that ran across your ribs, you wondered if you were hasty to have resigned from the BAU. 

Your phone was filled with emails from twenty-somethings who couldn’t read a syllabus properly, or wanted to know if your midterm exam was open-note in a 400 level course. Part of you yearned for the adventure and the reward of the BAU to escape from the monotony of your job… and another just wanted to be close to Spencer. It was selfish, and you knew it was, but you couldn’t really help it. 

When you got out of the shower, your phone lit up on the vanity, buzzing with notification after notification. 

**Spencer:** Good morning, (Y/N). :)

 **Spencer:** Today is going to be pretty eventful, so I won’t be able to message you as much as I’d like to. I just wanted to let you know that when I woke up, I was thinking about you. 

**Spencer:** I’ll see you soon.

All Spencer could think about was you. They were delivering the profile and he jumbled up his words because all he could think about was how soon he’d get to be with you again, and how much he hated the thousands of miles between you. JJ had given him a _look_ after that. Part of him both admired and resented how well she could read every single aspect of his behavior, despite his belief that he had a pretty good poker face. 

So he found himself at the coffee machine for the sixth time that day, stirring sugar into the scalding cup until it had dissolved. Surprisingly, the tiny Arizona precinct had good coffee, which was good, because everything else about the trip had been abysmal. 

He wished Derek were still there and that he could still ask him for advice and confide in him. Sure, there would’ve been plenty of teasing, but he knew Derek could give him guidance that would help him clear the ever-present, _you_ -shaped fog from his brain. The coffee gave him back his focus, at least a little a little, and seemed to give him the extra boost he needed to get through the case. 

It was a spree. He’d solved sprees before, he’d seen dozens play out before his eyes. And here he was, struggling to make sense of a simple geographical profile that could help determine where the unsub would go next. 

His phone buzzed, a text from you. Not even a text, really, but a picture of a stupid thrifted mug with a mallard on it that you always kept on your desk. He could see your cup of coffee, heavy on the creamer, and a spattering of crumbs from your most recent snack. A smile played on his lips as he thought about what to say back that wasn’t hopelessly smitten and obvious. 

Because, yes, the two of you had agreed not to let this agreement change how you felt about each other, but what if he was already stupidly in love with you before he signed that paper? _No._ No… that wasn’t fair and he knew it. Those were the feelings that needed to be buried, even if each sleepy conversation and evening spent together made it feel impossible. 

“Spence?” He turned to see JJ looking at him expectantly. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on and you don’t have to tell me. What you _do_ need to do, though, is come back down to Earth and help us catch this guy.”

 _Right._ He felt his entire face burn with embarrassment as he nodded, going back to the map in front of him. He knew the answer was there if he just looked hard enough. He’d done harder things before, just not with his mind filled up with you. 

Six hours later and he was sitting on the jet holding ice to his sore jaw. He should’ve remembered the profile, and he should’ve thought twice before stepping forward and trying to talk the man down. Everything in his profile said that he would sooner go down in a blaze of glory than surrender, but Spencer was scatterbrained and he got the butt of a rifle to the jaw because of it. 

His teeth ached, and the beginnings of a purple bruise were sure to bloom beneath the skin overnight. With a sigh, he put the ice pack down and rubbed at his face with a frown. He wasn’t ever that lazy, that sloppy. He’d never wanted you to take over his job, his life’s work and here he was, with the throbbing jaw to rub it in his face.

JJ gave him a meaningful look, practically imploring him to tell. _He couldn’t_. He’d promised. By the time he landed it was pitch black outside thanks to the time differences. On pure instinct, he pulled his phone out to text you. 

**Spencer:** Just landed. Flight wasn’t too bad.

 **(Y/N):** Good. Don’t stop anywhere, just get over here. Fast.

For better or worse, he had a feeling he couldn’t keep you from claiming every bit of territory in his mind for your own. He’d happily abandon the space so you could settle comfortably. It’s just the type of person he was. 

You greeted him at the door in one of the silky dress shirts he’d accidentally left over, leaning against the door nonchalantly as he struggled to keep from dropping his bags. It was then that you noticed the mark on his jaw and dropped the facade. 

“God, Spence, I thought I told you to be careful,” you said, straightening up suddenly to help him with his bags and usher him in. He trudged across the threshold and into your apartment, collapsing onto your couch as you dropped his bags and kicked the door shut. 

“I know,” he said as you settled beside him, turning his face towards you with the gentlest of touches. His nose scrunched up at the sting when your fingers brushed against the forming bruise. You watched as his tongue darted out, wetting his lips as you shifted into his lap. 

“Did that hurt?” You asked, running your thumb along his jaw. He nodded and you leaned in to press a kiss to the sore spot. “ _Good_. Serves you right for putting yourself in harm’s way.”

“That isn’t fair,” he replied, his voice wavering just slightly as you moved your lips along his jaw. You hummed against his skin, a soft _hm,_ that invited him to keep talking. “Asking me to stay safe is an impossible promise to expect me to keep. There are countless scenarios that could play out that are out of my control.”

You nipped his skin softly and he gave a shuddering breath, whimpering as you sucked a mark into the soft skin of his throat. “Was it?” You asked. A shaky, “ _what?”_ escaped him. “Was it out of your control?” You asked against his skin. 

“N-no.” You laughed lightly, placing another kiss to his throat.

“Mhmm… I thought so.” His hands moved to your hips, holding you against him. A smile played on your lips as you leaned back just enough to look into his eyes. “Why don’t we make a scenario you can control, hm?” He nodded and you smiled appreciatively. “What do you want, Spence? Want me to keep leaving marks on your throat? I could give you something pretty to match the nasty bruise on your jaw, couldn’t I?”

He nodded wordlessly, his eagerness betraying him. Ever-so-slightly, you brushed his hair back, ghosting your lips over the column of his throat. His breath caught, heart beating in anticipation as you pressed light kisses along his skin. You could feel his pulse just slightly as you kissed him, sucking gently until a soft gasp escaped him.

Four more marks found their places against his skin before you met his gaze once more. “What next? You’re in control, Spence, tell me what you want.”

It was a half-truth. He had full reign to make demands, but you were the one calling the shots. You were more than willing to let him take control though, if he wanted. 

“I want to take your clothes off,” he said, a slight edge of uncertainty tainting his words. He cleared his throat once before meeting your gaze, the uncertainty gone. “I want to take your clothes off and fuck you on this couch.” His cheeks were pink and flushed, either from embarrassment or arousal. He wasn’t used to saying all the dirty thoughts that raced through his mind, which you figured was out of a sense of decorum that he still couldn’t shake off. 

“Take what’s yours then.”

Needless to say, he did just that.

\--

 **_“Just the cool girls”,_ ** **9:13 AM, the next morning**

 **Penelope:** Attachment: 1 image

 **Penelope:** Spot the hickey on Dr. Spencer Reid

 **JJ:** No way

 **Emily:** Jesus Christ.

 **Emily:** Is he dating a vacuum cleaner?

A grin spread across your lips as you read Em’s message, trying to conceal your laughter as your students worked on their midterms in front of you. 

**Kate:** Creepy, Pen.

 **Kate:** But now I’m curious.

A part of you liked Spencer beneath you-- blissed out, sweating, flushed from head to toe with arousal. It was the best view, you decided, to see exactly what you did to him. Every movement, every time you circled your hips, each flutter of your walls around him. His hands were firm on your hips, holding tight as you bounced against him, chasing your high. 

A string of curses left his lips as he came, emptying himself within you as you continued to ride him, desperate to finish around him. He was sensitive, you could tell by the furrow of his brows, by the pitch of his whines and moans. 

“Just a little longer,” you gasped, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest and the other between your legs, circling your clit as you neared your peak. His chest heaved as he accepted the overstimulation you gave him, using his body to chase your orgasm. You were sure he’d have to tap out with a safeword, but just as soon as you thought it, you felt the familiar beginnings of electric bliss in the pit of your stomach and just as quickly stumbled over the edge. 

“‘M sorry,” you muttered lazily as you collapsed beside him, sprawled half across his chest and half on the blankets. “Looked like it got a little overwhelming.”

“I could take it,” he said softly, rubbing your back with comforting strokes, up and down. A chill went through you and you cuddled even closer against him, pressing soft kisses to his chest before you even realized what you were doing.

He leaned down, placing a kiss to the crown of your head and you gave a contented sigh. You liked the moments like this. It was comfortable to be with someone and not have to worry about the messiness of mutual feelings. Both of you were doing what you were doing because it felt good and you enjoyed it. 

“Do you think maybe we should buy a test?” Spencer asked. 

_Right. You were also doing this with the hopes of having a baby together._

“Mhmm… sure,” you said. “After we nap? My thighs are jell-o right now.”

\----

Under the fluorescents, halfway across the CVS, Spencer Reid looked like a cryptid as he scoured through the snack aisle. Stupidly tall, his back awkwardly bent as he reached for something on the bottom shelf that he probably should have just leaned down for. 

_Divide and conquer_ was the plan-- he’ll grab the snacks, you grab the pregnancy test, meet up at the fridges. But a part of you froze as you grabbed one of the _Spencer approved_ tests. All you could do was stare at it in your hands and _wonder_ what exactly would happen if it came back positive. _How did you let your life get this crazy?_

 _Fuck it_. You tossed it into your basket and made it back to the drink aisle in time to meet Spencer, whose arms were filled with different sugary things that he figured the pair of you would like. “All good?” He asked, an earnest smile on his face. 

“Mhmm,” you hummed, offering a gentle peck to his cheek. “Let’s just grab some cokes and head home.”

The walk back to your apartment building was uneventful. Neither of you really said anything, and practically all that could be heard was the rustling of the plastic bag in your hand, and the occasional scuff of Spencer’s shoes against the sidewalk. 

“Only 34% of people trying to conceive actually are pregnant after one month, but over half are able to conceive after three,” Spencer said suddenly. 

You raised a brow, lips turning up at the corners. “So… are we in the majority, or are we above average?” You asked jokingly. 

“I just wanted to tell you the statistics so if it isn’t the result you want you aren’t upset,” He explained. 

“I haven’t even peed on the stupid thing yet, Spence,” you said, furrowing your brows. But you knew exactly what he was doing, and you knew why. Maybe you would wind up beating yourself up if it wasn’t positive, and maybe you have a sinking feeling like it would disappoint _him_. God, you didn’t want to disappoint him. “Hey, if it’s positive, it’s positive, and if it isn’t we’ll keep trying. If it’ll make you happy, I’ll dip into that alley and take the test right now.”

A laugh escaped him as he tugged you along, smiling up at him. “I love you, Spence,” you said once you reached the shadow of your apartment building. _I am in love with you_ , you wanted to say.

“I love you too.” There was the earnestness again, and the love he had for you was so evident it made your heart ache. 

It was the result you expected. That time, and the next, and the time after that. Four months in, and sex was beginning to feel like a chore. A decently _fun_ chore, like reorganizing your closet, but a chore nonetheless. 

It became less of an erotic experience and more of something to check off the to-do list. You text Spencer, Spencer texts you. You go over, he comes over. You take off your clothes, or whatever you feel like taking off that day, use each other to get off, and go the rest of the night pretending it didn’t happen. 

_What did you want for dinner?_ You would ask while he was inside you, face contorted with pleasure. Or, _did you catch that documentary last night? What do you think about going out with the team this weekend?_

Most of the time he’d ask you to stop making small talk while he was literally trying to impregnate you, but other times he would definitely turn the tables-- like the _many_ times that you were riding him and he would just go on a tangent below you.

“But when they gave me the manifesto to read, I noticed the-- _fuck_ \-- the slant of the handwriting and the-- uh-- the spacing told me that--” He released a shaky moan and threw his head back. “Told me that--” He whimpered as your fingers wrapped around his throat, squeezing the sides. After that, he couldn’t have told you how his story ended in the first place. Turns out making him shut up is a weakness of his.

Sometimes, though, it was nice. Spencer got back from a case late, and found you waiting in his apartment with hot coffee, a bubble bath, and his favorite jazz record playing. He scrunched up his nose at the sight of the lavender scented bubbles, making some comment about how he hadn’t taken a bubble bath since he was four, and couldn’t even remember _using_ his bathtub since he’d moved in. 

“Well… you can drink your coffee, and I’ll have a bath by myself,” you said firmly, removing your clothes and folding them carefully before slipping into the hot water. You could feel Spencer’s gaze on you as you sunk further into the water, relishing in the comfort that you, quite honestly, felt you deserved. 

Spencer curled his legs up beneath him, perched on the corner of the tub like some strange bird while you watched him intently. “How was the case?” You asked, turning off the tap with your toes. 

“I talked the unsub down and saved a potential victim,” he said with a half-smile, punctuating his sentence with a sip of coffee. 

“Yeah?” You asked, smiling up at him. “That must’ve felt good.”

He nodded, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. “Yeah,” he admitted. “She was sweet. Asked if she could take me out to dinner to thank me.”

“And you went?” You asked, a strange clipped tone to your voice. 

“No, I probably would’ve just talked about you the entire time anyway,” he admitted with a grin. You nodded, fingers drumming against your thigh beneath the water. There was an awful feeling that you _could_ have put a name to, but were too scared to attempt. “Thanks for being here when I got home.”

You smiled, taking the mug from his hands and placing it on the tile floor. “Do you have your phone?” You asked. He shook his head and you grinned, sitting up to grab his hand. “Why don’t you join me in the bath, then?”

“(Y/N), no,” he said firmly, panic flaring up in his eyes. You nodded, tugging him forward despite his resistance, struggling until he tumbled into the bath with you. A delighted smile spread across your lips as he struggled to find his footing in the tub. When he finally sat up on his knees, dripping from his layers and layers of clothes, he gave a resigned sigh and shook out his wet hair, splashing you and the walls. “This does feel kind of nice.”

“Mhmm…” You hummed, reaching up to brush his hair from his face. “Now lay back and relax.”

He made quick work of his sodden clothes, tossing them out of the tub to make a pile on the floor. You borrowed his coffee mug, sipping at the sickeningly sweet drink as you watched him move. Heat settled in the apples of your cheeks as he caught your eye, brows furrowing. 

“What?” He asked, nose scrunching up as he turned around, leaning back against your chest. 

“I just like looking at you,” you said softly, turning your head to place a kiss on his temple. He gave a contented sigh, sinking further into the water. “You must be tired, Spence. Let me take care of you.”

A soft, “please,” escaped his lips, and you smiled as you stood and stepped onto the bath mats as you padded your way into the shower to retrieve his shampoo. He smiled up at you as you stepped back into the bath, settling on his thighs so you could face him head on. 

With two fingers, you tilted his head back so you could dampen his hair once more, gathering water in your hands so you could run it over his long locks. His eyes fluttered closed, and you found yourself grinning at how relaxed he got as you massaged the shampoo into his hair. 

It smelled sweet and tart, like apples and pears. You’d never been able to put a name to the scent before. He gave soft sighs as you worked it into his hair, leaning into your touch. “Feel good?” You asked softly. He nodded and you rinsed your hands in the warm water before bringing handfuls up to rinse his hair. 

It was a while before you’d finished, mainly due to the difficulty of rinsing his hair out without anything to pour the water from, but also because you kept getting distracted by his lips, which were just _begging_ to be worshipped with soft, chaste kisses. By the end, you weren’t even certain that the soap was all out, mainly because you just settled on placing your lips on his and relishing in the feeling of him beneath you. 

“Do you want this?” You whispered, pressing your forehead to his. 

“Always. I always want you,” he admitted, pulling you closer. A smile spread across your lips as you ground your hips against his, gasping softly at the stir of his hard cock beneath you. 

It was clumsy and giggly. You feebly attempted to ride him among the bubbles and the soapy water, with his wet hair hanging into his face, and every movement placing bubbles somewhere you couldn’t take seriously. Both of your tongues tasted of synthetic soaps, and his clean hair wound up with piles of bubbles as you desperately grabbed for something to hold onto. 

“ _Fuck_ , just sit still,” he managed, holding your hips down so he could thrust up into you. You had to press your lips to his to keep from moaning out in ways that would have made his neighbors furious. You could feel his cocky grin against your mouth. He knew exactly what he was doing to you. 

His thumb moved between the two of you, circling your clit with firm circles as you grasped onto his shoulders in a weak attempt to keep yourself steady. When he made you cum, you collapsed against him, holding yourself tight against his chest as he continued to pump himself into you until he followed behind. 

After that, neither of you moved for what felt like forever. He returned the favor by washing your hair, then rubbed your tense shoulders until you were pretty sure that you were going to finish _again_ just from his ability to work out kinks in your muscles. When the water went lukewarm, you both slipped out of the tub and wrapped in the fluffy towels he kept on the top shelf of his closet for special occasions. 

You turned and placed another kiss on his lips, gentle and earnest. It was a good day. And, truthfully, your agreement and the plan was the farthest thing from your mind in that moment.

“ _So_ … I’ve been putting tons of personal information into all those stupid ovulation tracking apps, and basically I have it set up to tell me the exact time I’ll be most fertile and according to the notification I just got, that starts right now.”

“ _What?_ I have guests over though..” His cheeks went an adorable shade of pink as he glanced toward the kitchen, where JJ, Em, Derek, Savannah, and Penelope were snacking on the foods everyone had brought, then over to the kitchen table, where Kate, Rossi, Tara, and Luke were chatting over very full glasses of wine.

“Spence, we definitely don’t have to, but the next time this will happen is going to be in about a month,” you said, squeezing his arm. “In three minutes, I’ll pretend to be sick, and you can offer to check on me after I’m gone about… three minutes.”

“But what if someone else offers to check on you before I do?”

“Um… I dunno, just say that you can handle it.”

He nodded, chewing on his lip as he watched you walk away and join the girls in the kitchen. You gave him a meaningful look as you settled beside JJ, taking a snack from the kitchen counter as you fell into the conversation easily. Talk about work, laugh at Penelope’s quip (not that you really had to remind yourself), ask JJ and Derek about their boys, play coy about your dating life. 

It was approximately two minutes and forty-five seconds before you placed a hand to your stomach and braced yourself on the counter, exhaling slowly through your nose. “Are you okay?” JJ asked softly, rubbing your back as you attempted to stand. 

“Mhmm…” you said weakly, brows furrowed. “I’m feeling really nauseous, though. I’ll be right back.”

You caught Spencer’s eye as you walked past, slipping into his bedroom and back into the master bath, where you locked the door behind you and went straight for the mirror, where you quickly adjusted your hair, applied chapstick, and blotted out the slightly smudged makeup beneath your eyes before you heard a knock.

“Hey, just wanted to check on you.” A grin spread across your face as Spencer’s voice sounded through the door. “Will you let me in?”

As soon as he made it past the threshold, Spencer locked the door behind him and pinned you against a wall. “Do you know how desperate you look, begging me to fuck you with all of our friends over?” He asked, voice low and gravelly, a total 180 from the tone behind the door.

“ _Spence_ ,” you said weakly, eyes wide at his tone. You were so used to bossing Spencer around when you slept together that you didn’t know he could even manage to have that sort of effect on you.

“You don’t need to say anything,” he said firmly. You swallowed hard and nodded, looking up at him with utter excitement. “Go bend over the sink and pull your skirt up.”

You couldn’t remember moving faster in your _life._ Maybe part of it was that he was taking charge for once, or maybe it was just because you were ovulating and were so turned on you could barely stand it, but you could feel the slickness between your thighs, soaking through your panties. Shaky hands bunched up your skirt, holding it in place as he moved behind you, hands working his belt and zipper. 

“Can you keep that needy mouth shut for me? Hm?” He asked, condescension dripping from his tone. You nodded quickly, meeting his eyes through the mirror. “That’s good. I’d hate for everyone out there to know _exactly_ what you begged me to do to you.”

A gasp escaped you as his fingers slipped between your legs, and you had to make an effort to keep your knees from buckling beneath you as he sunk two fingers into you. “I can feel how desperate you are,” he said, low in your ear. You couldn’t do more than nod as you braced yourself against the cool tile, relishing in the feeling of his fingers stretching you. A preparation, you knew, for what would come next. 

“ _Please_ ,” you managed, your voice whiny. “Please fuck me Spence. I need it.”

“Yeah? You need it?” He asked. “So badly that you couldn’t wait a couple hours until everyone left, hm?” You found yourself without words as he knowingly looked at you. “The average period of ovulation can last anywhere from twelve to twenty-four hours, (Y/N). I can see right through you.”

You had to bite onto your fist to keep quiet when he finally thrust into you, your free hand twitching against the tile as you unconsciously searched for something to tether yourself to. Muffled, desperate moans sounded against your fist, and you knew that if someone were to come by the door they’d know exactly what was happening.

Spencer knew that as well as you did, and brought his fingers to your mouth, just like you’d done that first time together. Obediently, you parted your lips and took his fingers into your mouth. It did a better job at muffling than your fist did, mainly because they were so deep that you couldn’t really make much noise at all. 

A softer knock sounded at the door and you froze holding your breath as Penelope’s voice sounded through the door. “Hey, we just wanted to check on (Y/N),” she said. “Do we need to bring her anything?”

Spencer straightened up, but by no means slipped out of you, which was fucking mean. “She’s really sick,” Spencer said, sounding incredibly believable. “If one of you could run to the store around the corner and buy some saltines and peppermint tea it would help. Or lemons and pears, if those are available. All of them are proven to help with nausea.”

“I’ll get on it. (Y/N), my love, do you need anything else?” Penelope said. 

_Fuck_. Spencer withdrew his fingers from your mouth, a string of spit connecting them to your lip as he nodded at you expectantly. “Um… a cherry ice gatorade please?” You said, your voice weak and gravelly for more reasons than your acting skills.

Before long, the shadow beneath the door went away and Spencer resumed his relentless pace.

“Did you think that I wouldn’t notice how you clenched around me as soon as you thought we may get caught?” He asked, leaning over you to whisper it in your ear. A whimper escaped you in response, and his cocky grin grew. “Be a good girl and touch yourself for me. Make yourself cum around my cock before someone comes back.”

“ _Fuck_ , Spence,” you said, your cheeks burning hot at his words. Sure enough, you slipped your fingers between your legs, and despite how you were pressed against the cabinet, you found your clit with relative ease. 

All the while, he kept up his string of profanities and filthy utterances, and you were struck to your core about how _different_ he was then. You were used to him being struck dumb at the sight of you naked, worshiping you reverently and eagerly. You were used to soft kisses on your shoulder and leaving marks on him that the team may or may not notice, but Spencer would be incredibly conscious of. A reminder of who would be waiting for him after his job was done. 

Your eyes rolled back as he thrust particularly deep, his grip on your hips threatening to bruise. Breathy gasps escaped you as you neared your peak, Spencer’s name tumbling from your lips like a prayer until words failed you altogether. 

“That’s my girl,” he said in your ear, lips grazing the spot just above your jaw. “Go on, I’ve got you.”

Your knuckles went white on the countertop as you finally came, too-loud moans slipping past your lips as he continued to fuck you through your climax. It wasn’t long before he followed after you, spilling himself inside of you, lazily thrusting to push his cum deeper. A pleased smile spread across your lips as you met his gaze through the mirror, a giggle escaping you as you saw how utterly fucked out you both looked.

“Was that okay?” He asked quickly, massaging the sore areas of your hips with gentle circles. You nodded and he gave a relieved sigh, finally slipping out of you so he could adjust his clothes once more. “I read at least three books and two entire blogs about being dominant during sex. I also watched a few videos to help me figure out what kind of things I could say.”

A smile spread across your lips as he adjusted your underwear and fixed your skirt. “Is that something you want to do more?” You asked. “Be dominant?”

He paused for a moment before shaking his head. “I wanted to try it, but I like you in charge,” he admitted, a half smile on his lips. “You’re so confident and in control. I like not having to be in my head so much when I'm with you.”

And stepping into that role makes you feel like you have to live up to what you researched?” “You did really well,” you said, turning around to face him, thighs squeezed together as you tried to ignore the warmth between your thighs. “I’m going to lie down on your bed and pretend I’m very sick so I have an excuse to stay there for a while. You go back to the party and try not to look like we just had sex in the bathroom, okay?”

He scrunched his nose up, an amused smile on his lips as you leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Better rub that off,” you said, pointing to the faint pink smudge your lipstick left behind. He tilted his head down, allowing you to rub the remnants of the pink stain off carefully. And if anyone noticed the slight pink hue on the apple of his cheek, they didn’t say anything. 

“Why do you smell like Spencer?” 

You turned with wide eyes towards Penelope, who was looking at you strangely from beside you on the couch. Before you could reply, Emily reached over and paused the rom-com that JJ had picked, and suddenly all eyes were on you. 

“What?” You asked, brushing a lock of hair back into place. Fuck, you needed to stop fidgeting, sit still, and act nonchalant. You used to be a profiler, for god’s sake, you knew how to lie without getting caught, but there you were.

“You definitely smell like Spencer,” Emily piped up, punctuating her sentence with a swig of wine. She raised a brow in your direction, an amused grin on her lips. “Have you two been…”

A choked laugh escaped you, and you were increasingly aware of how badly you were playing this off. “Em, c’mon,” you said with a shake of your head, turning to face the paused image of Mark Ruffalo on screen. 

“He does talk about you a lot,” JJ added, brows furrowed. “Like… literally any time he can bring you up in conversation, he does. I’d kind of figured you were secretly dating each other for about a month now. Especially after you got sick at the party a few weeks ago”

“Yeah, he was so worried!” Penelope added. “It was so sweet how he wouldn’t let anyone else go help you.”

Oh god, you thought, resisting the urge to bury your face in your hands. I would literally rather be struck dead than continue this conversation. “We’re _just_ friends,” you insisted, and it wasn’t a lie. 

“Does he know that?” Emily asked, giving you a knowing look. 

You laughed it off and nudged Pen to start the movie back up, which she did, thankfully. But the entire time that Mark Ruffalo was talking to a ghost version of Reese Witherspoon, you were really just sitting there thinking of Spencer. 

In the morning, you woke up on Emily’s shoulder in the dark of Penelope’s living room, wincing at the ache in your stomach. _Fucking cramps_. A hollow feeling settled in your chest at the implication— that it would be just another month with nothing to show for it. You were the first to grab your bags and head out, wanting to go home and have some time to yourself for the afternoon. 

When you opened the door to your apartment, you were greeted by the sight of Spencer asleep on your couch, holding the fluffy throw pillow against his chest. A smile spread across your lips as you quietly closed the door, trying your hardest not to wake him as you went into your bedroom. 

“Hey,” he said softly, sleep coating his voice. When you turned to face him, he managed a tired smile. “I made you blueberry muffins last night. I thought you’d be back late, but I fell asleep waiting.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Spence, I didn’t know you were waiting for me.” He shook his head insistently, a way for him to say that he didn’t really mind at all. “You could’ve taken the bed and I wouldn’t have minded.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” he assured, clearing a spot for you beside him. With a contented sigh, you curled up beside him, a firm hand on your stomach as you tried to ignore the persistent cramping in your belly. 

Spencer noticed quickly, covering your hand with his-- fingers splayed out against your stomach. There was concern in his brows, but you brushed it off with only a look that said, _it’s okay, I’m fine Spence_ , and turned on the classic movies channel.

Thirty minutes later, Spencer finally spoke up. “Are you… Do you have any other symptoms?”

You sighed, a frown turning your lips. “Typical PMS shit,” you grumbled, leaning into his shoulder. “These stupid cramps and these stupid aching tits are going to fucking kill me.”

He nodded, letting you rest against him while he rubbed your back in soothing circles. It went quiet for a while, as you both watched the movie, but you could tell that Spencer had something on his mind. His hand stilled, and you glanced up at him with a furrowed brow. 

“It’s just… I think maybe you should take a test,” he said finally. 

“Spence, I’m almost completely sure that I’m about to start my period,” you said insistently, 

“But some of the typical symptoms of PMS overlap with early pregnancy symptoms,” he said, almost defensively. “I don’t remember you going through this last month, (Y/N). I really have a gut feeling that this is it.”

“Fine, but you sit on the bed until I come get you,” you insisted, fighting a smile when he eagerly hopped up to follow. “I don’t want you to hear or see me peeing.”

The cache of tests you’d bought over the past few months was beneath your vanity cabinet. Your foot tapped against the tile as you waited for your incredibly shy bladder to perform under pressure, your back aching at the odd posture of maneuvering a test between your legs.

Afterwards, you put it on the counter, washed your hands, and walked out to Spencer, who had already set a timer on his phone upon hearing you open the door. You’d been through this before a few times then, and you were used to the sight of negative tests. Part of you wasn’t even sure how to feel if it _did_ come out positive. 

“I’m more nervous this time,” Spencer admitted, interlocking his fingers with yours. You squeezed gently, meeting his warm gaze. “So nervous, in fact, that I can’t even remember the statistics about the likelihood of pregnancy after four months of consistent attempts at conception. I just have a gut feeling, which is weird because I back everything up with facts and evidence and right now all I have is this… _intuition_ , I guess, and--”

“Spence… breathe.” Your fingers splayed against his cheek, cradling his face in your hands. He met your eyes and took a few shaky breaths in and out until he felt grounded again. “I’m nervous too. And I don’t need your facts right now. All I need is you.” He smiled and you put your hands back in your lap. “Now, do you want to keep talking, or would it be better if it was quiet?”

“Quiet, I think,” he said. You nodded and squeezed his hands once more, watching the timer on his phone tick down second by second. _So soon_. 

And you would be lying if you said that you didn’t share Spencer’s gut feeling. And _maybe_ that’s why you were hesitant to get up and actually take the damn test. Because positive means that everything you have _now_ changes and most of you doesn’t even want to think about that.

When his phone buzzed, you froze, your grip on his hand tightening as you thought about the tiny stick that was currently sitting on your bathroom counter. Your legs failed you, and all you could do was look to Spencer pleadingly. “Can you look first?”

He nodded, kissing the crown of your head before he stood, taking long strides through the door of your bathroom, where he looked down at the rest with an unreadable expression. He turned, staring over at you from the doorway as you fought the building nerves in the pit of your stomach. 

A smile split his face, the bright, beautiful smile that you knew he couldn’t contain for long. He didn’t even need to say the next words, because the utter joy on his face said it all. He got on his knees in front of you, holding your hands in his as he practically shook with excitement. “You’re pregnant. We’re actually having a baby.”

_oh, fuck. You’re actually having a baby._


	4. Waiting Game

**series rating: E (18+)**

****_→ chapter rating: M_ **   
**

**_tags: pretty much just fluff with some language and slightly explicit references to sex. mentions of miscarriage, doctor’s offices, and a smidge of angst_ **

“Spence, you’re gonna bother everyone else in the waiting room,” you said gently, resting a hand on the thigh of the leg he was bouncing. He went still beneath you and you gave him an encouraging smile. It had been two weeks since the at-home test, and the first possible time you could have gotten into the office. It was incredibly clear that he’d been anxiously anticipating a real, doctor-given confirmation. 

It didn’t matter that you’d taken about four more tests at home already, all of which came out with the exact same response. Both of you _knew_ , but he wanted to _know_. 

“What’s the doctor’s name again?” Spencer asked, his voice pitchy like it always got when he was nervous or uncomfortable. 

“Still Dr. Lee,” you said… _again_ , for the third time since you stepped out of your apartment door. “I’ve been seeing her since I came to town for college at eighteen. She knows me better than any other doctor and has a great track record of happy, healthy babies.” He nodded, but you could feel by the tension in his thigh that he was resisting the urge to go back to tapping his foot. 

[[MORE]]

“Do you want to read one of these magazines?” you asked, gesturing to the coffee table that was practically covered by outdated parenting magazines. 

“That would take me, like, five minutes. And do you know how many people have touched those?” He asked, wrinkling his nose at the thought. “No I’m… I’m fine. I’m sure they’ll call us back soon.”

“Yes, Spencer, they will, so maybe try and calm down,” you finally snapped, drawing your hand away to cross your arms across your chest. “You’re not the one who’s about to be poked and prodded like some alien specimen.”

“I know that, (Y/N), but they’re also going to confirm the pregnancy and see if everything is alright and I’m just a little worried by everything that can go wrong still. Can I not be a little anxious about this?”

“Of course you can, Spence, but you’re stressing _me_ out now.”

He went quiet and for a moment you felt guilty, but the intense anger that had settled within you over the past few hours had come back like a tidal wave. He turned away from you slightly, and you focused your pent up energy on picking the pieces of lint from your shirt. 

“I understand why you’re so volatile,” he finally said. “Mood swings are quite common around the six week mark of--”

“ _Spencer_ , I understand exactly why I'm pissed right now, which is why I would appreciate it if you’d stop explaining my own pregnancy to me.”

You had a sense that he was going to say something more, and you were prepared to have it spoil your mood even further. Thankfully for both of you, a sweet looking nurse poked her head out of the door and called you back before either of you could say something regrettable. 

Spencer grabbed your purse for you as you stood, following the nurse through the hallways and the admittedly confusing layout of the practice before being handed a cup to pee in and led to a scale. After that ordeal, you found yourself in a nice, coral and gold room with Spencer which most likely hadn’t been redecorated since the practice was founded in the late 70s. 

On nervous, shaking legs, you stepped behind the frosted glass partition and changed into the thin paper gown that was folded on the examination table. When you stepped from behind it, struggling to tie the flimsy plastic into a neat bow, you knew that Spencer wanted to help, but was still worried that he was overstepping. 

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, finally just knotting the plastic tie. “You’re right about the mood swings, and I was so angry that you were right about me being angry that I snapped.”

“I know,” he said, offering you a half-smile. “I just worry I guess that… things are going to be different now. This is something new for both of us now. I don’t want you to think that just because we aren’t _together_ that you have to go through it alone.”

You nodded, reaching for his hand to give a quick squeeze before you clumsily moved onto the exam table, goosebumps prickling your arms and legs. Spencer was quick to stand, offering his jacket to throw over your legs. _He cared so much_ , you noted, tucking your legs beneath you as you glanced timid towards the door. 

Your palms were damp with nerves, and you fought the urge to wipe them off on Spencer’s jacket as you anxiously awaited the arrival of your doctor. Spencer went back to bouncing his leg, and this time you could empathize completely. 

It was five minutes before the doctor stepped in, but it felt like hours in the quiet, freezing room.

Doctor Lee was a warm presence, a sort of hippy type of woman who you felt had _very_ interesting stories to tell about the seventies. She wore floral scrubs, and her glasses were connected to a pearl chain that made it so she never misplaced them. 

“ _So_ ,” she said, a smile on her face as she gestured for you to lay back. “hGC levels in your urine are definitely elevated and we’re still going to do a blood workup, but I can confidently say that you are pregnant.”

A shaky breath escaped you as you brought a smile to your lips. It was a strange feeling to have a doctor confirm what you already knew. It made it all more real, less hypothetical. _If someone would have told you six months ago that you’d be here now, you wouldn’t have believed it._

“Um, Dr. Lee, this is Spencer,” you said, gesturing across the room to where Spencer sat awkwardly in a relatively tiny chair. He gave a close-mouthed smile and raised his hand in a greeting. “He’s the dad.” You paused, unsure of how much you wanted to elaborate on your very strange situation, then decided to leave it at that.

She exchanged pleasantries with him as she grabbed the speculum, and you forced yourself to relax with a few deep breaths. Spencer looked mildly concerned, apparently having never thought to learn more about gynecological care. 

“Is this the same Spencer that you used to work with?” She asked as she conducted the pap smear. You hummed an affirmation and she laughed. “ _Oh_ , I remember him then.” Heat flared up in your cheeks as you looked _anywhere_ but towards Spencer Reid. “He’s the one that you said never took hints when you were flirting with him, right?”

Your breath caught as you felt a pressure in your abdomen. “Yep.”

“Well, I guess that changed a lot since I last saw you, didn’t it?” You watched her glance in his direction, and he mumbled something sheepish under his breath. 

You finally worked up the nerve to glance over at Spencer as she removed the speculum and began the cervical exam, which, honestly, was worse. You mouthed a quick, _sorry_ , but he just shook his head and let a tiny smile find its way onto his lips. 

“Yeah, this part is never any fun,” Dr. Lee said as you tensed up, nose scrunching at the weird pressure as she pushed down on your abdomen. “Everything feels about right though. Do you remember the approximate date of conception?”

“Uh, June 6th, I think,” you said, trying to remember what you wrote down in your notes. “I was ovulating that day, and after that he was called off to work, so. I don’t think anything after that would’ve registered on an at-home rest, right?”

Dr. Lee nodded, and patted the inside of your leg to tell you that you could put your legs down. With a grateful sigh, you sat up and folded your hands in your lap. “I’d say based on the exam I just gave, that date sounds about right. And your intake forms said that your last menstrual period was two weeks prior to that, which puts your due date around the 27th of February. Right now you’re just about 6 weeks.”

Spencer had already just about guessed that, and had filled you in with facts about week six of pregnancy with unadulterated excitement. He was extremely amused by the fact that the baby was the size of a sweet pea, and that its heart had started beating at a rate of about 110 beats per minute. You knew he liked researching things like that, and it made you smile whenever he dropped facts like that into conversation. 

“Do you have any questions about what to expect and do before I let you dress for the ultrasound and bloodwork?”

“Um…” you trailed off, glancing towards Spencer who you knew had a list of questions. “I think I’ve covered all my questions over the past two weeks with lots of online research, but I know Spence has some things he wants to talk with you about, if he could go over that while I’m getting dressed.”

As soon as she nodded, you hopped off the table and made your way behind the partition. You tried to dress slowly, to give Spence the time to ask his questions and get the full answer and not be rushed. 

“So, I wrote down a list of genetic predispositions I have,” he said, and you could hear him fumbling in his bag as you stepped into your leggings. “I actually had a question, though about the likelihood of passing some of these down in your experience.”

You could hear the fear in his voice, the tiniest waver among the false confidence in his words, and it broke your heart.

\----

He was quiet on the ride home, gripping the steering wheel of his ratty old car until his knuckles went white. You thought that seeing the flutter of the heartbeat on the monitor would’ve changed his mood after asking the questions he brought, but it was evident that something was bothering him. 

“Hey,” you said softly, waving the grainy ultrasound picture in front of him. “I guess this means that we can plan how we’re going to tell the gang, huh?”

“It’s probably safer to do that after week twelve,” he said, not taking his eyes off of the road. “That’s when the chances of miscarriage drop.”

 _Oh_. You nodded, drumming your fingers against your thighs as he drove right into standstill traffic. “You know, I think it’ll be a boy like you,” you said with a grin as the car stopped. “Would you hate it if I said I would be down for naming him Spencer Jr.?”

He scrunched up his nose, just a hint of a smile playing on his lips before he shook his head. “I hope it isn’t a boy,” he admitted. “You heard Dr. Lee. Autism is more likely to be passed on by the father, and boys are more likely to be diagnosed.”

“Spence,” You said firmly, putting a hand on his arm. “There would be nothing wrong with that. There’s nothing wrong with _you_.”

“Yeah, but let’s also consider the predisposition towards mental illness like depression and anxiety. Not to mention family history of schizophrenia and Alzheimer's.” He paused, letting his head fall against the steering wheel with a soft _thump_. “I just… I want the baby’s life to be easier than mine. I don’t want them to go through what I went through.”

“And they won’t,” you assured, nodding at him to pull forward just a bit. He lifted his head, and the faint mark across his forehead made you smile. “Spencer, no matter what, our baby is going to be perfect, and I’m going to be honest and say I think that most of that is because of you.” He opened his mouth to say more but you were quick to interrupt. “I also think that their future is uncertain, but I know that you and I will do anything we can to make it easy and safe for them, no matter what.”

He nodded, and he took a deep breath in before he pulled through the light, reaching over to squeeze your hand. “You’re right,” he said, meeting your gaze. “I’m just… I’m so scared that maybe I’m setting them up for failure just by being their dad.” It went quiet as you fumbled for the right things to say-- the perfect combination of words to cure him of the fear in his heart.

“Hey, see that bookstore up there?” You asked suddenly, squeezing his arm as you pointed to the tiny hole in the wall. “Can we pull over really quick?”

He nodded, pulling into the next lane without even considering asking what you needed. As soon as he’d parked, you pulled him inside, waving a quick hello to the young girl at the counter as you searched through aisle after aisle until you found your mark. 

“Okay, Spencer Reid, you pick out as many as you want and I’ll buy,” you said, leaning against the shelves with a grin. 

“I haven’t gotten a chance to screen the titles first,” he said with a frown, running his fingers along the spines of the multiple pregnancy and parenting books in front of him. “What about you, are you buying some?”

You nodded, then gestured towards the bathroom. “Did you know that at week six of pregnancy women start having to pee more because of increased blood flow to the pelvis?” You asked, giving a weak finger gun. “Pick your books, alright? I’ve really got to go.”

By the time you got back, Spencer had a pile of six books in his arms that he would no doubt have finished by tomorrow. You snuck a peek at the titles and grinned. _Of course_ he hadn’t stuck with the basic father-to-be selections, but had gotten plenty of plain pregnancy guides you were pretty sure you should have in your pile as well. 

“All good?” You asked, nodding to the book pile. He nodded, making way so you could browse the shelves too. Maybe you went basic and grabbed the stereotypical books, but you made sure to grab a few that seemed genuinely interesting, like a feminist perspective of motherhood and a cute little week by week journal. 

“See how many books are in your hand?” You asked, struggling to hold your pile upright. He nodded, taking a few from yours so it was easier. “No one who cares that much about preparing for their kid can possibly be setting them up for failure. You’re going to be amazing, Spence. I promise, the world can’t possibly be ready for Spencer Reid Jr.”

He shook his head, a smile finally playing on his lips, and it felt like the most important thing you’d seen all day. “We’re not naming them that.”

“Well… we’ll think about it.”

JJ was the first to notice.

It wasn’t like Spencer was being particularly subtle, and she wasn’t even snooping. He had _literally_ left his bag open on the table at the precinct where _anyone_ could have seen the paperback titled _The First Time Dad’s Pregnancy Handbook_ tucked inside.

And JJ had gone to Derek, who had dropped everything to meet up as soon as he got the _I think Spencer got someone pregnant_ text. And maybe Derek let it slip to Penelope, and after she knew, the entire Bureau knew within a few days, it seemed. 

He didn’t _quite understand_ the strange looks he kept getting at the roundtable, or whenever he walked into a room last. And it was _nice_ that Derek, Alex, _and_ Kate had all reached out over the past few days saying they needed to catch up, but he felt like something was definitely off. 

It was only when Rossi pulled him aside, clapped him on the back and said, “Hey kid, you know you can tell me anything, right?” that he knew he was caught. 

\----

 **Spencer:** The entire BAU knows. I don’t know how but they know.

 **(Y/N):** Penelope and Em texted me this morning… 

**(Y/N):** They don’t know it’s me though! Plus side!

 **Spencer:** That doesn’t really help me. I feel like a zoo animal.

 **(Y/N):** I’ve been saying we should tell them, Spence.

 **Spencer:** I know. We might have to fast track that plan.

“My boobs are bigger,” you noted, struggling to make your cute floral dress look even moderately appropriate as cleavage spilled over the scoop neckline. 

“Yeah, I know,” Spencer said, apparently not even realizing what he’d admitted as he adjusted his hair in the mirror.

A snort escaped you as you finally gave up on hiding the cleavage and turned to face Spencer. “They’re really sore too,” you sighed. “They look good though, right?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed, still distracted by making himself look _just right_. You rolled your eyes and mussed his hair a little before stepping out of his bathroom and walking back across the hall so you could properly arrive late and not worry about spoiling the surprise. Ten minutes later, there was a knock on your door, and you opened it to find Pen and Derek. 

“Hey,” you said softly, grabbing your purse from the rack. “Thanks for getting me. I would’ve lost track of time and forgotten to head over.”

Derek slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in for a hug before you linked arms with Penelope. She grinned, pulling you to the side as Derek and Savannah walked into the apartment. 

“Do you think we’ll get to meet _her_ tonight?” She asked, wiggling her brows. 

“Maybe?” You said, furrowing your brows. “I’m sure he has _something_ in store.”

You walked in the door together and immediately noticed how everyone seemed to be anticipating _something_. Rossi was even in a chipper mood, smiling and talking with Blake and Reid about something you weren’t privy to. 

You settled on the couch, sipping at some fruity water that Spencer had apparently made after you left. The couch dipped and Luke settled beside you, clinking his glass of water with yours. “So… There’s gonna be news apparently.”

You hummed around your glass, giving a noncommittal shrug. “So I’ve heard,” you mused. “He’s probably waiting on JJ.”

Luke nodded, stretching as he settled back on the couch, glancing towards the door. “You know she’s kind of pissed, right?” he said, voice low. You shook your head and he nodded. “I mean, if your best friend hid something like that from you for this long, wouldn’t you be?”

 _Fuck_. 

You nodded and he shrugged it off, downing the rest of his drink before standing, offering to grab you a plate from the kitchen. Jennifer and Will got there a few minutes after, and it wouldn’t even take a profiler to see the thinly veiled annoyance on her face. _Yikes_.

“Oh, everyone’s here!” Spencer said quickly, slipping back into the kitchen to retrieve the tray of champagne flutes he had _not-so-subtly_ hidden in the fridge. 

He made the rounds passing everyone a flute with the grin of someone who was about to get a huge secret off of his chest. Part of you wanted to be that happy, but something about Luke’s words had made you feel cold all over. It was then that you realized how much you were dreading the reveal. 

“No, don’t drink!” Spencer said quickly as he saw Tara bring the flute to her lips. “I… uh, I want to make a toast first.”

Beside you, Penelope made an excited squeak and squeezed your arm, a smile plastered on her face. No one was doing a particularly good job at pretending that they didn’t know what was coming, least of all Pen, but Rossi and Em were definitely close seconds. Never in your life had you wanted to run and hide more. 

Spencer cleared his throat once more and you felt your palms go sweaty against the champagne flute. 

“Um, I guess I’m not really good with my own words,” he said with a weak laugh. “I’m usually better at more concrete things like facts and data, not trying to put words to all of the really weird, really new things I’m feeling.” He brushed a long lock of hair back and shook his head. “You all mean the world to me. And I know that you all know why you’re here, so I don’t even really need to be as discreet as I’m being right now and--”

“Reid...” Morgan interrupted, nodding towards the glasses. 

“ _Right_ , uh, I think we should toast to family,” he said, raising his glass. “The one that’s here now, and the family that each of us will build on our own. Uh, cheers.”

“Cheers,” you echoed, bringing the glass to your lips.

Penelope’s nose crinkled at the taste, as she took a long sip and furrowed her brows at the glass. And Rossi would’ve noticed it right away too, but you couldn’t see his reaction from behind you. Emily, bless her heart, was the only one brave enough to speak up. “Um, Reid, this is just sparkling grape juice.”

He feigned surprise and sipped at his own glass, nodding in realization. “Oh, I probably just mixed it up with mine,” he said with a sheepish half smile on his lips. “Uh… let me find the bottle of the good stuff I got for you guys.”

He disappeared into the kitchen, and you drummed your fingers on your now-empty glass. _Fuck_ , you already needed to pee. Stupid elevated kidney function. 

When he came back, two champagne bottles in his hands, you felt your cheeks heat up with the realization that the time left of your secret _remaining_ secret was rapidly diminishing. He handed the bottles off to Em and Derek, who mindlessly filled their flutes up without reading the label, really just happy to have whatever fancy alcohol Reid had splurged on. Rossi, however, knew damn well to look at the label of the wine. 

“ _You’re kidding_.” Derek furrowed his brows, peering around Rossi to read the label that he had ignored. 

_Drink this, because for 9 months, (Y/N) can’t_.

“Wait, what is it?” Penelope asked as more people gathered around the champagne bottles, trying to read for themselves so they could convince themselves it wasn’t some elaborate hoax. “(Y/N)? Oh my _god!_ ”

“Wait, you two are together?” Kate asked after giving you a proper bear hug, brows knit with confusion.

You shook your head, struggling to find a way to explain with so many eyes on you and so much to get out. “No, Spence and I aren’t dating,” you explained. “We’re just having a kid together.”

“Why didn’t you just tell us?” Penelope asked. 

You were trembling without realizing why, and you felt tears threatening to spill from your lashes. It was either another ill-timed case of mood swings or an intense manifestation of guilt. “I made her promise not to,” Spencer lied, saving you from the sudden spotlight. Only a half-measure, though, as you couldn’t ignore the attention coming from everywhere. The guilt bubbled up more intensely, and you felt so awful that Spencer was taking the blame for _your_ rule. “I wanted a bit of privacy to deal with everything with no meddling.”

Your bladder was screaming for attention, which was convenient because you no longer wanted to stand among your peers and have your life choices questioned. It was also extremely uncomfortable to know that _they knew_ that Spencer Reid had been fucking you raw for the past six months. That, you decided, was more of a downside to pregnancy than any other symptom so far.

As soon as it got quiet, you felt sweaty all over and knew you needed to get the absolute fuck out of the situation before you got too nervous and puked. “Uh, announcement over, so… let’s all go back to normal now?” You suggested weakly before nodding for Pen to follow you towards the bathroom. 

“What’s wrong? Are you nauseous? Do you need me to go pick up something you’re craving?” She asked quickly as soon as you were hidden by a rather large and oddly placed bookshelf. You shook your head and she gave a sigh of relief, finally pulling you into the pleasant hug she had definitely wanted to give you since she read the news herself. “I am _so_ happy for you, but also very mad that you’ve hidden this from me for six months,” she said without a hint of malice. 

“I just needed to get away from… all of that,” you admitted, sparing a glance back towards the group that was yet to disperse. Spencer was talking with his hands, an animated smile on his lips. You watched him gesture with his fingers, and made out the words _about the size of a raspberry!_ “I also really need to pee.”

She stepped to the side and gave you access to the bathroom door, which you were extremely grateful for as soon as you _finally_ got to relieve yourself. 

“So… you and Spencer, huh?” Penelope’s voice sounded through the door and you sighed, going to wash your hands. “And you actually… _did it_?”

Your face burned hot as you dried your hands, opening the door to give her a stern look. She grinned and squeezed into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. “Oh my _God_ , (Y/N), you’ve accomplished what was once thought to be impossible. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that one time I caught you having a sex dream about--”

“ _Pen_ , you’re making it weird,” you said with a pout, leaning against the counter. “I’ll give you thirty seconds of rapid-fire questions, then you drop it forever.” She opened her mouth, ready to ask so you added, “ _Caveat--_ you can’t tell anyone else what I’m about to tell you.”

She nodded, clasping her hands together anxiously until you nodded for her to start. 

“Was it good? Was it _good_? What was the craziest it got? Uh… _Oh!_ How often did you do it? Did you ever kiss? And does he do anything particularly weird in bed that made you kind of--”

“Time,” you said, cutting her off before you were obligated to answer that last question. With a sigh, you rattled off the answers. “Yes. _Yes_. Over this very sink. At least once a day when he wasn’t on the job. And yes, we can kiss each other. Satisfied?” She made a face at your avoidance of the last question and you grinned. _Some_ things could still be a secret. 

By the time you had rejoined the rest of the group, the conversation had shifted, but not enough that your return went unnoticed. The attention was overwhelming, to be honest, and it seemed no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t make it across the room to Spencer without being pulled aside from another member of the BAU.

Rossi was quick to try to cement his place as the cool uncle, promising to offer his house for the shower, should you choose to have one. Kate offered parenting advice and some of her old things she wouldn’t need anymore, which was nice because looking at some of the lists of things to buy in the pregnancy books was enough to make you sweat. 

Then there was JJ. She and Will found themselves next to you, and of course they exchanged pleasantries and congratulations, but JJ seemed lost in thought. Luke’s words came back into your mind suddenly and you were overcome with guilt. 

“I’m so sorry that I wasn’t honest,” you said finally. “I know you’d been worrying about Spence, and I should’ve trusted you and told you what was happening instead of letting you stay in the dark.”

She nodded, a smile making its way to her lips. “I get it,” she finally said. “Word travels fast, and it’s an incredibly personal situation.” She glanced in Spencer’s direction, at the wide smile on his lips as he talked to Em and Tara. “He’s happier than I think I’ve ever seen him. That’s what really counts, right?”

You nodded, catching his eye across the room. His face lit up as he waved you over, extending his arm so you could take your rightful place at his side. You were growing to love the feeling of being with him, and it terrified you.

By your count, you had puked up your guts three times since you settled in for bed, and since three in the morning had hit, you weren’t sure that there was anything left to vomit, although the nausea sure wasn’t going away. 

“So _then_ ,” Spencer continued, staring up at the ceiling. “ _Your dad_ made a geographic profile that actually led us to one of the witnesses we’d already interviewed! And when we got there he had dismembered limbs in his shed that--”

“Spence, the baby doesn’t need to hear about dismembered limbs or your cases.”

“If I’m not allowed to talk to sweet pea about my cases, you aren’t allowed to listen to those murder podcasts anymore. But you know their ears aren’t even fully developed yet, right?”

You sat up, brows knit as you glanced in his direction. “For starters, I didn’t know that about the ears. _More importantly_ , though, I need to know why you’re going for sweet pea when there are about a million cuter nicknames.”

He looked sheepish, sitting up in bed in the pitch black of your bedroom. After you started having sleepless nights spent puking your guts out, he decided that he’d stay with you every night and lose just as much sleep to make it fair. “When we saw them the first time they were the size of a sweet pea, according to the baby book I got,” he explained. “I guess that’s what I’ve always kind of called them in my head. Do you not like it?”

You scrunched up your nose, shaking your head. “ _Eh_ , it isn’t my favorite… _But_ I think I’ll let you have this one since I’m getting to name the baby Spencer Jr.”

“No,” he said firmly, rolling his eyes at your joke. “And it still can be a girl. _I_ think it’ll be a girl, so you can’t name her Spencer Jr.”

“Well,” you said, a sly grin on your lips as you met his eye. “Good thing the name Spencer is gender neutral, right?”

Giggles escaped you as he grabbed you by your waist and pulled you into him, resting his head on your shoulder. “ _Go. To. Sleep_.” He nuzzled against you, and you couldn’t help the smile on your lips. His hand fanned out against your stomach, holding you against him. It was warm and safe, and the overwhelming sense of love made you want to cry. 

“Keep talking to the baby until I’m asleep?” You asked softly, weaving your fingers with his. “About the case, about some random facts you’ve memorized, just anything.”

He didn’t need to remind you that the baby couldn’t hear anything he was saying. Both of you were acutely aware that the request was absolutely for you. 

“So… how have you been feeling?” Spencer asked. You could hear the chatter of the BAU in the background, and just from that you could tell he had stepped away from the case to call you. 

“Full disclosure?” You asked, and he hummed on the other end of the line. “Every time I open the fridge I have to run to the bathroom to vomit because the smell of leftovers and cheese makes me sick. My boobs hurt so bad that for about six hours now I’ve been wearing no top at all because wearing a bra makes me cry. I am so bloated that I can only fit into sweatpants right now, and I’m so ridiculously turned on most of the time that I just want to cry.” 

In the two weeks that had passed, you’d seen Spencer maybe three times before he had been called out to another city somewhere across the country. That meant you were stuck at home by yourself, struggling through the lottery of pregnancy symptoms that you won every single morning. Today, it felt like you had hit the jackpot.

You tilted your head to hold the phone in place as you searched for the remote for the TV, searching for something to watch while you were home alone. One of the benefits of being in your first trimester _now_ was that it was summer and you could just fuck around at home instead of being around college kids. 

“Wait, this entire time?” He asked suddenly, his voice high. “You’ve been… _this entire time_ and you didn’t tell me?”

“Yeah, Spence,” you sighed, settling on an old period drama to watch. “You did your part already. I don’t need to bore you with the details of my day to day.”

“No, I mean... I could have helped you,” he explained, pausing before saying again, a little softer, “I _can_ help.”

Your face went hot and you had to take a breath to center yourself. “Spencer Reid, are you suggesting we continue our friends with benefits arrangement?”

He huffed on the other end of the phone, and you could picture the slightest tinge against his cheeks. “I have never called it that but, uh, sure. Whatever you need, whenever you need. I’m all yours. I don’t care if you just need a warm body or if you want me to drive across town to get you the food you want. I’m at your beck and call.” You could hear Luke calling him over in the background, and he swore lightly under his breath, which made you grin. “Hey, uh, can I call you back tonight? We’re a little busy.”

“Of course, Dr. Reid,” you said with a grin. “Go catch a bad guy for me, alright?”

\----

It was exactly 9:30 when Spencer called, like he’d been waiting precisely for the right time to seem nonchalant enough. Not super late, but not exactly early either. You could almost picture what he was doing before-- pacing around the hotel room with your number queued up as he tried to rationalize when to call and how to play it. 

“Hey,” he said softly. “Uh… how was your night?”

You smiled, turning on your side as you reached to turn on the lamp at your bedside. “Oh, pretty good,” you mused, sitting up against the headboard. “I’ve managed to put a shirt on and my incessant horniness subsided after my nap a few hours ago. _Also,_ I had caesar salad for dinner and had a bowl of lucky charms for dessert. _And_ I haven’t gotten sick since you called this morning.”

“I’m happy. I was worried about you,” he admitted.

A giggle escaped you as you nodded. “Mhmm… I know. The eleven check in texts kind of gave you away.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said quickly.

“Don’t apologize, Spence, I thought it was sweet that you were thinking about me.”

He cleared his throat nervously and you couldn’t help the smile on your face. If you thought you missed him a few months ago, you had no idea what it would be like when you were hormonal and he was halfway across the country. It felt like a part of you had been ripped out and tossed just out of reach. 

“I miss you,” he said finally, and you could almost hear the way he held his breath as he waited for your response. 

_You idiot_ , you wanted to say. _I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you packed your bag and told me you had to brief on the jet. Three times today I’ve considered buying a plane ticket to wherever the hell you are just to be close to you. You’re all I think about anymore, Spencer Reid, and it’s driving me crazy_.

You were quick to tell yourself that hormones are a _bitch_. It was _too obvious_ , your brain reminded you, that everything you were feeling was just the result of intense pregnancy hormones. You didn’t love Spencer, not at all. Your brain just _thought_ it did, or something. You needed to google it, but you were almost _sure_ that was the fact.

“Yeah?” You asked, a half smile on your lips. “Get home soon then.”

As soon as the call ended, you buried your face in your hands and lamented the fact that you weren’t brave enough to tell Spencer how much he really meant to you. 

After you’d situated yourself in bed and sent Spencer a proper goodnight text, you locked your phone and stared up at the glow in the dark stars on your ceiling, absentmindedly resting your hand on your belly. 

“Hey Sweet Pea,” you said softly, ignoring the tiny, Spencer-like voice in your head that reminded you that the tiny thing inside of you didn’t know what the hell you were saying. “I really miss your dad.”


	5. Uncharted Territory

**series rating: E (18+)**

****_→ chapter rating: E (18+)_ **   
**

**_tags: SMUT (f!recieving oral), language, angst, injuries, hospitals, vomit, fluff!_ **

In the mornings, Spencer would rub your back. His hands would slip beneath the tee shirt you wore to bed and knead soothing circles as you pretended to stay asleep if only so he would keep going. You would blink against the sunlight pouring in through the windows and wrinkle your nose at the intrusion. And he would get up and make you pancakes from scratch, always a little burned because he would get distracted by the newspaper and forget to flip them. 

And you _knew_. Because it was plain as day that Spencer looked at you like you hung the moon, even if he would tell you that it was a ridiculous metaphor and that the moon formed due to a collision of planets and no one had any hand in it except fate. But it was _true_. You’d wake up feeling his gaze on you and fall asleep with his hand splayed against your stomach. He was in love with you—a ridiculous, unignorable amount. 

_And it wasn’t fair._ There was a funny taste in your mouth at the thought, something that soured you from the inside out. If Spencer noticed the shift, he said nothing. 

[[MORE]]

“I think Spencer is in love with me,” you told Penelope as she walked through the aisles at the maternity boutique you’d found at the mall. The second trimester had just begun, and you already couldn’t button your jeans. “He practically lives in my apartment, he’s always… doing sweet things and being a gentleman, and he _cares_ so much about me _,_ and it’s incredibly frustrating.”

Pen froze, four shirts hanging from her hand as she stared at you with wide eyes. “(Y/N), that’s like… the opposite of a problem,” She said as she put the clothes in the cart. “ _Three days_ before New Years, you said you were into Spencer.”

You sighed, shrugging as you tossed another pair of elastic jeans into your ever-growing cart. “I _was,_ and that’s why I was flirting with him on New Years,” you admitted. “But that’s when I still wanted to have like… planning on being, like, this cool single mom who could totally be interested in Spencer and keep things objective with my kid.” You groaned and threw two pairs of shorts in. “But then I slipped up, and then we made this agreement to have a kid together, and I wanted a kid _so badly,_ but I also just want _him,_ and now it feels like I can only have one or the other.”

Pen groaned, halting the cart with one hand, which made you stumble and glare. “(Y/N), seriously, that is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” she said plainly. “If Spencer loves you and you _want_ to be with Spencer, what’s holding you back?”

You sighed, leaning against the cart with a dejected groan. “He probably only wants to be with me because I’m having his baby,” you sighed, feeling tears well up in your eyes. “And like… the sex hormones and stuff that bonded him to me and if that disappears after I’ve admitted to myself that I’m in love with him, I’d never forgive him.”

Penelope dropped the subject at the sight of your teary eyes and instead opted to help you pick out a few cute dresses on her dime. The bill for all the clothes was ridiculous, and you had an inkling that you’d be back to get more later.

Pen dragged you to a clean juice bar, insisting that you needed to get vitamins and veggies so her future godchild could be as healthy as possible. You didn’t bring up that you hadn’t even _decided_ who would be the godparents yet, and followed along with a groan as you glanced over the menu, picking what looked the least repulsive option. 

“So… _have_ you and Spencer slept together since you found out you’re pregnant?”

You snorted, taking a long drink of your gritty, green smoothie before shaking your head. “That’s a _resounding_ no,” you answered. “ _God_ , I’ve been so tempted. He literally offered, you know? Because being pregnant makes you so stupidly turned on all the time and he _knows that,_ but then he’ll do something thoughtful like go buy me my favorite dinner or run me a bath, and I immediately know that I cannot fucking sleep with him.”

“You know how many people would kill to be with a guy like that?” She asked, raising a brow as she picked at her acai bowl. You frowned and shook your head. It was hard to explain everything you were feeling, and you knew it wouldn’t be easy to understand. “Look, (Y/N), I say this because I love you _so much_ , but you either need to accept your feelings for him or learn to live with him. You are going to be stuck with him for a long time.”

——

Spencer wasn’t in your apartment when you got back with arms full of shopping bags and a smutty romance novel that Pen had given to you to borrow. It felt like your apartment was empty for the first time in a long time, and a strange sort of weight settled in your chest at the thought. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” you sighed, dropping the bags on the floor. “I need to wash these.”

It was a lot of effort to haul your new clothes down the hall and into the rickety elevator, and even more of an effort to carry the basket of things down the set of stairs that led to the laundry room. With a huff, you dropped the basket on the ground and started sorting the colors out, dark and light, when the door opened behind you. 

“Oh.” You turned to see Spencer with an armful of clothes to wash, an unreadable expression on his face.

“There are like… traces of formaldehyde on clothes when you buy them from the store,” you said, turning away from him so you could put your entire focus on the clothes in front of you and not the kicked puppy on the stairs. “So… yeah, I’m just going to… wash the gross chemicals out, I guess.”

You could hear his footfall against the stairs, and when you turned around, he was gone. A frown turned your lips as you loaded the washers and sat atop one of the broken machines while you waited for the cycle to complete. 

Spencer was on your couch when you got back, leg bouncing, hands wringing. You could _feel_ his gaze on your back as you walked the basket of clothes into your bedroom. All you could really do was take a breath to collect yourself, step back into the living room, and wait for him to say what he needed to say. 

“I wanted to give you some space, but…” You held your breath, a guilty frown turning your lips. “I wanted to apologize first.”

“For what?” you asked softly. Your arms crossed over your chest as you fought the urge to move by his side and hold him. He looked so _hurt,_ and it killed you that you had a hand in it. 

He shook his head, his features scrunching as he looked towards the ground. “I don’t know. I guess whatever I did that made it hard for you to even look at me.”

“Spence…”

You trailed off, unsure of what you could even say without making matters impossibly worse. On one hand, you could be honest and try to work things out as adults. But on the other… even admitting you were struggling with your feelings for him was humiliating and hard to fathom. 

It was clear he wanted some sort of answer, and as the silence stretched uncomfortably thin, he realized that he wasn’t going to get one. “Okay, uh… Yeah,” he said dejectedly. “I guess I’ll just move my stuff into the guest room for now.”

The house got quiet after the door shut behind him, leaving you stuck standing in the same spot, staring at the couch where he once was. A lightheaded feeling washed over you, and you shook your head to center yourself. 

You stood at the counter, gripping the edge as you tried to center your breathing. Everything felt fuzzy around the edges, and you squeezed your eyes shut as your breathing started to come in much too fast. You took a step back, needing room to breathe, and that was it. 

Whatever you had dreamed while you were under, you didn’t remember it when you woke up. Because then Spencer was there, holding you in his arms, with blood on his shirt, and you were so disoriented that you didn’t even realize what had happened. 

Your head was aching, and your face felt damp and sticky. And you wanted to check, but your hands were too shaky and weak to lift towards your face. And Spencer was crying, trembling where his hands met your skin. 

Every time you blinked, you were worried you might lose consciousness, and it took all of your effort to keep looking up at Spencer. He was on the phone with someone, you couldn’t tell who, and you didn’t have enough within you to listen hard enough to tell. The call ended and he brushed your hair out of your face, his fingers coming back dripping with crimson.

“Okay,” he said softly, maybe only to himself. “Okay, I’m going to get you up, alright? Do you think you can walk with me to the car?” A groan escaped you as you nodded your head, curling into his shoulder as he wrapped your arms around his neck. “Hold tight for me, alright? I don’t want you to fall and hurt yourself again.”

The walk to the elevator was hard, and so was the walk to the car. Spencer was barely coordinated enough to support _himself_ while walking, let alone you while you were unable to support yourself. Getting to sit in the passenger seat of the car was a needed break, but not like you needed. 

Every time he saw your eyes drooping, he would shake you to jolt you back into consciousness, which worked for a while until you got right back to where you started. It felt like there was an intense weight pulling down on you, dragging you towards unconsciousness once more.

“Am I okay?” You asked with watery eyes as he turned into the parking garage of the hospital.

“Probably just iron deficiency,” he assured. “We just need to get that cut on your head stitched up, and check on the baby, alright?”

You nodded and he brought an attempt at a comforting smile to his lips, which did precious little to hide how fucking terrified he was. Your head was aching, and you groaned as you curled up against the window, desperate to close your eyes and get a little rest. 

“Hey, _hey--_ no, don’t…” You frowned as Spencer turned up the radio suddenly, and the sound of static startled you out of your languid state. “ _You_ need to do everything you can to stay awake, alright?”

You nodded, slumping down as nausea overtook you. Spencer’s hand was on your back, and you couldn’t tell if he was trying to lift you back upright or just… pat you comfortingly. A few moments later, you puked all over his floorboard.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered once the car came to a halt and he could finally pull you upright. “That was gross, I’m sorry.”

“You’re fine,” he insisted, holding your hand in his. “We’re about to go inside. Just a little longer.”

You didn’t really have any memory of getting into the hospital, or how you made it into the little room where you wound up lying in a cold, uncomfortable bed. Spencer was beside you, still holding your hand. 

“Hey,” you said, voice barely a whisper. “I don’t remember… uh, I don’t remember getting here.”

His brows furrowed with concern, and you winced as you sat up, a dull, throbbing pain radiating from your head. “You cut your head open on the countertop, and you might have a concussion too. They’ll have to do a few tests. It’s common to experience memory issues with concussions.”

You nodded, reaching up with a shaky hand to feel the cut on your forehead, which had already been bandaged up. When your hand fell and settled on the swell of your stomach, your lip started to wobble. “Do they know if the baby is okay?” You asked weakly. 

“Dr. Lee is on her way down,” he assured you. “She and the nurses will make sure everything is alright. And then if they say we can, we’ll go home and you can rest. You just fell, alright? I can promise you that our baby is happy and healthy.”

You nodded, blinking back the hot tears from your lash line as you shifted to get more comfortable in the bed. For a moment, Spencer’s hands slipped from yours, but you were quick to hold on tighter. 

“I’ve been awful for the past few weeks,” you admitted hollowly, meeting his gaze. “And I’m sorry. For being awful, _and_ for vomiting in your car.”

He laughed lightly, running his thumb along the back of your hand. “We don’t need to talk about any of this right now. It doesn’t matter to me.”

You shook your head insistently, taking a centering breath before you looked at him. Your brain was jumbled and hard to navigate, and it took you a while before you could even manage to get out what you needed to say. “Spencer, I think I’m in love with you. And I need to say that now because you deserve to know.”

He cleared his throat, brows furrowing as he shook his head. He stammered nervously, his cheeks flushing as he managed a quick, “ _W-what?”_

“Yeah,” you said softly. Your heart was _pounding_ and you could hear the stupid machine beeping and giving you away completely. “And it’s scary and confusing, and I pushed you away because of it.” You cleared your throat, conscious of the comforting weight of his hand in yours. “I just… I’m terrified that you don’t actually feel the way you think you do.”

You could see him trying to find the words he wanted to say, but just as he opened his mouth, Dr. Lee walked into the room with a nurse at her side and an ultrasound machine on a cart. You struggled to sit up in bed, and Spencer dropped his hand from yours as you turned to the doctor. 

“How are you feeling, (Y/N)?” She asked as the nurse started hooking up the machines. 

You wrinkled your nose, gesturing broadly to the hospital bed, the bandage on your head, and the machines that you were hooked up to. “Kind of like I fainted and cut my head open on the granite countertops in my kitchen.”

Dr. Lee moved a chair to your beside and chuckled under her breath. “ _Well_ , you didn’t lose your sense of humor.” She held up your chart and brought her glasses up to her nose, squinting down at the words. “Blood work says that the fainting was caused by an iron deficiency, which is what I figured when I got the call from Dr. Reid, but it’s good to know for sure. We’ll put you on iron supplements to make sure you don’t end up back _here_ unless you have an appointment, alright?”

You nodded and the nurse brought the cart beside you, turning on the screen so she could administer the ultrasound. You pulled up the material of your shirt and laid back against the pillows, shivering as the nurse put the gel on your stomach. 

You watched the black and white image appear as the device touched your belly, and felt tears well in your eyes at the sound of the heartbeat. 

“Your baby is doing just fine,” Dr. Lee assured, patting your knee with a smile. “Strong heartbeat, and they look to be developing perfectly.”

The technician smiled as she changed the angle, giving you a knowing look. “It’s a bit earlier than most parents find out, but with the position the baby’s in, I’m almost certain that I could say what the sex of the baby is if you want to know.”

“Are you… are you serious?” You asked, brows furrowed, glancing over at Spencer who was struggling to contain his excitement. “It’s just… it’s so early that I didn’t know that would even be possible.”

“ _Well_ , it’s kind of hard to miss. It’s kind of like the baby is sitting on top of a photocopier,” the technician said. Dr. Lee grinned, glancing at the monitor. “Are you two ready to know what you’re having?”

You glanced at Spencer, raising a brow in a silent question, _do you?_

He nodded quickly, his grin growing. “ _Yes,_ I want to know.” You turned back to the tech and Dr. Lee and nodded, grabbing onto Spencer’s hand like a lifeline. 

The tech circled something on the screen and stepped around, gesturing to the area and was pointing at. “Based on this positioning and the _lack_ of noticeable male sex organs, I can confidently say you’re having a girl.”

 _A girl_. You released a sudden breath, a smile stretching your lips as you looked back at Spencer. _He was right_. 

You were in the hospital with a huge gash on your forehead, you might be concussed, and there was vomit on your shirt, but you were with Spencer and you were going to have a _daughter_.

——

“I can walk, Spence,” you assured him as he guided you through the doorway of your apartment. 

“I know, I know,” he said, but still didn’t move his arms from around your waist. “I’ll get you into bed, and then I’ll go make you some lunch.”

You gave a resigned nod and let him help you into your room, where he made you sit on the armchair by the window while he made down the bed and brought in extra pillows and blankets. He had practice, you realized, by taking care of his mother. You gave him a thankful smile as he guided you back towards the bed and helped you to get comfortable.

“Uh… how does canned soup sound?” He asked with a sheepish smile. You nodded and pulled the blankets more tightly around you. “Okay then. I’ll try not to burn it.”

He did burn the soup though, but you pretended that you couldn’t taste it as you took spoonfuls of the odd tasting, over-salted meal he’d brought you. He made himself comfortable in the bed beside you, turning on the TV to a rom-com that he knew you loved. 

_You were having a girl_. Every single time you thought about it, you couldn’t help the giddy smile on your lips. He noticed, each time he snuck a glance towards you, he saw the permanent smile on your lips and felt warmth and an overwhelming sense of love in his chest. 

_Love_. 

“I do love you,” he said suddenly. “In the hospital you said you were scared that I didn’t actually feel the way you thought I did, but I _do_.”

“Spence...” you said, a frown turning your lips. “What if it’s just hormones? What if in a few months, or a year, you wake up one day and realize that it was all just a chemical reaction in your brain because of sex and the baby.”

He laughed suddenly, shaking his head, and you felt tears welling up in your eyes. “It’s not funny,” he said, but the smile stayed on his lips. “It’s just… I think I’ve been in love with you since you shut the elevator doors on me on your first day.”

You furrowed your brows, shaking your head. “What?”

“Yeah. There was that, and the time you talked the unsub down when he had a gun to my head. Also, when we did karaoke at that bar and you sang Ella Fitzgerald. I was so drunk that Derek had to hold me back so I wouldn’t say something humiliating about wanting to marry you. The time on Halloween where you dressed as a vampire and took that picture pretending to bite my neck, which is framed in my kitchen, by the way. _Oh_ the time the police chief in Montana was being condescending and you put him in his place in front of the entire station.”

“Spence, you never said anything,” you said with a wobbly voice, the overwhelming sense of feeling so _cared about_ and so hormonal hitting _hard_.

He shook his head, thumb rubbing circles over the back of your hand. “I didn’t know how,” he admitted. “And honestly? I never thought you would ever care about me the way I cared about you. And then we did _this_ , and we’re going to have a _daughter_. The fear of you rejecting me is infinitesimal compared to all the love I have for you now, and always.”

Hot tears streamed down your cheeks, and you gave a shuddering breath as he wiped them away with his thumbs. It was sudden, but you couldn’t stop it if you tried. You leaned forward, capturing his lips with yours. 

Your lips tasted of salty tears and the gross burned soup he made. Neither of you cared. Beyond that, the kiss tasted of new beginnings and broken rules. The intense knowledge that it might have been ridiculously stupid to fall in love with Spencer Reid, but you would gladly call yourself the dumbest girl in the world if it meant you would love him and be loved in return. 

He pulled back, his hands cradling your face as he looked at you with a dopey smile and an all-encompassing amount of love. “I love you.”  
Your hands covered his, and you smiled at the tenderness of his touch. “I love you too.”

**_“Colleagues” Group Chat_ ** **, 9:15 AM, the next morning**

**Spencer:** Hey guys! Exciting news! :)

 **Spencer:** We’re having a girl!

 **Spencer:** But (Y/N) has a concussion.

 **Spencer:** Also I think we’re dating :)

——

A grin spread across your lips as you read the notification on your phone. Spencer had slipped out to make breakfast, and had apparently decided that 9AM on a Saturday morning was the perfect time to break the news to everyone… over text. 

Music was playing in the kitchen, and you could hear it through the open door of the bedroom, floating through the air to make its way to you— Motown _soul_ , which was surprising, but not altogether _too_ surprising. You stood from the bed, stretching lazily as you padded your way into the kitchen from the bedroom. 

“ _Hey_ , what are you doing up?” He asked, looking up from the counter with flour dusting his shirt. “I need my girls resting.”

You scrunched your nose and wrapped your arms around his waist, leaning your head on his shoulder. “ _Your girls_ are getting stir crazy after eighteen hours in bed.” You stole a blueberry from the counter and sighed contentedly at the taste. “So… _are_ we dating, Dr. Reid?”

“What?” He said, a blush covering his cheeks. “You saw that?”

You laughed and nodded, leaning against the counter. “Mhmm… Apparently you forgot to remove me from your list of _colleagues_ before sharing your news.” He set the wooden spoon in the bowl, sparing a nervous glance your way. “Do you think it’s a good idea?”

He released a shaky breath. “I mean, yeah,” he said, notedly less _profound_ than usual. “We love each other, (Y/N). I want to be with you more than anything.”

It was scary, the thought that you might actually get everything you want. You were having a baby with the most incredible man you’d ever met… _and he loved you_. Maybe it wouldn’t ever stop being so scary, but you’d seen and conquered more terrifying things. At least, you thought you had. 

“I do too,” you said, feeling your heart swell in your chest until it felt like you couldn’t _breathe_ , couldn’t _live_ without letting it out. “Let’s be together, Spence. I don’t care if you fall out of love with me in two weeks or twenty years. All I want is you _now_.”

His lips were on yours before you could properly comprehend that he was even moving, not that you minded. His hands held your face, and he kissed you deeply. There was an intense sort of purpose behind it-- it was a reminder, evidence, and action all in one. _He loved you_. And if words wouldn’t convince you, his lips might do the trick.

“Are we going to have sex?” You asked suddenly, leaning back to meet his eyes. 

He stammered, his cheeks going pink. “I’m making pancakes, but if you _want_.”

“I _do_ want,” you replied with a grin, watching his own smile grow. “Maybe it’s the fact that I’m pregnant and a slight breeze could turn me on, but all of these love confessions are really doing it for me.”

A laugh escaped him before he kissed you again, his tongue parting your lips gently and reverently. You felt yourself melting into the kiss, nearly weak in the knees. “This’ll be easier if we move to the couch,” he said in between gentle kisses, his lips trailing down your jaw and neck. “Or the bed. Whichever you want.”

Your lips met his again, fingers tugging at the hair on the back of his neck as you deepened the kiss, desperate for more. “The couch,” you mumbled against his lips, neediness taking root in every fiber of your being. He nodded, lifting you up so he could carry you in his arms. 

He sat you down gently, your head nestled on the throw pillows carefully as he hiked the oversized shirt you slept in up, bunching it around your waist. You felt sheepish as he let his hands wander along your skin, conscious of the new stretch marks, the swell of your belly. 

“Leave it on?” you asked softly. He gave an understanding nod and pulled your shirt down slightly, just enough that he could still hook his fingers in the band of your panties and tug them down your legs. 

A blush coated his cheeks as he met your eyes, chewing on his lip nervously. “Can I go down on you?”

You sat up on your elbows, an amused grin on your face. “ _What?_ ”

“We’ve never done anything more than penetrative sex, and I just…” He trailed off, his cheeks impossibly pink. You gave him an encouraging nod, spreading your legs slightly. He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing as his eyes flicked from between your legs, back to your eyes. “I really want to eat your pussy.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” you whispered, unable to contain your grin. “I love hearing you say stuff like that, Dr. Reid.”

A smile to match yours found its way to his lips as his hands settled on your thighs, pushing them apart so he could fit between them. “Yeah? You like when I say that I’m desperate to taste you?” He asked, pressing a kiss to the side of your knee. “That sometimes…” Another kiss to the inside of your thigh that nearly makes you squirm. “After cases… When I was alone in my hotel room… I’d get myself off just remembering how it felt when I was inside of you.”

“That was against the rules,” you said with a shaky breath, as his lips trailed closer and closer to the apex of your thighs. “You weren’t, uh, you weren’t supposed to cum without me.”

“ _No_ ,” he said, his breath hot on your skin. “You just said I couldn’t cum _in_ anyone else. And I didn’t, because you’ve thoroughly ruined every other woman for me forever.” His hand reached up and found yours, bringing it to his hair. A shiver ran through you as you grasped on to his unruly locks, and the feel of his breath ghosting over where you wanted him most made you feel incredibly impatient. 

You weren’t one to beg, but _goddamn_ was he hellbent on making you change your rules. Just before you hit a breaking point where you were going to grovel, he dragged the flat of his tongue against you, tasting you, teasing you with the barest amounts of attention to your clit.

“ _Fuck_ , Spencer,” you gasped, your grip on his hair tightening. He whimpered against you at the sensation, nuzzling closer against you. Your chest rose and fell in shakily as he let his lips close around your clit, hollowing his cheeks and sucking until stars dotted your vision. Obscenities fell from your lips ungracefully. 

You gasped at the feeling of his fingertips at your entrance, gathering the wetness that had gathered, teasing you with the lightest of touches. He came up for breath, meeting your gaze with arousal coating his lips. _Fucking hell._

There was a haziness in his gaze, and you ran your fingers through his hair affectionately as he put his lips back on your pussy, going down on you with a renewed vigor that made you arch against him, desperate for more. 

He pushed a finger inside of you and a needy whine escaped you, throwing your head back against the pillows as he thrust it inside of you, a second finger joining shortly after. Your own fingers curled into his hair, your free hand grasping at the fabric of your sofa in a feeble attempt to ground yourself. 

He must have noticed, or just had a really keen since of timing, because he reached up with his free hand to weave his fingers with yours, giving you a squeeze as he redoubled his efforts on your clit, fucking you deeper with his fingers. 

“Spence, _fuck_ , you’re gonna make me cum.” you squeezed his hand so tight you were worried about leaving crescent shaped marks, but he didn’t seem to mind. His fingers curled upwards, eliciting a squeak as he wrapped his lips around your clit. Weak moans left your lips as he pushed you towards the edge, your back arching, your thighs trembling as you felt your high approaching. 

Hot tears slipped from your eyes as you felt yourself right on the edge, desperately grinding against his fingers and lips as you sought your finish. It hit like the snap of a rubber band, or a crack splintering across a frozen pond. You could feel the electric bliss running through your system, starting just in the pit of your stomach and bursting out. 

Your legs trembled around him as you cried out desperately-- a mix of obscenities and his name passing your lips. You felt warm all over as you came down, like you might melt right into the couch. Spencer lazily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he sat up, pulling your panties back up your legs before he curled up beside you. 

“Feeling alright?” He asked, tracing shapes on your arm absentmindedly. You nodded, turning your head to look in his eyes before pressing your lips to his gently. “I hope that was okay.”

“Spencer Reid, you’ve _thoroughly_ ruined every other man for me, just so you know. You’re gonna be stuck with me forever, so I hope you don’t plan on getting tired of me.”

He grinned, grabbing the blanket that was thrown over the couch to cover the two of you in. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Two days later, you woke up to the sound of Spencer digging through your dresser, tossing what appeared to be random articles of clothing into a suitcase. You furrowed your brows as you sat up, squinting in the near-darkness at Spencer’s figure. 

“Spence, honey, it’s so early,” you complained, wrapping the blankets more tightly around yourself. “Why are you packing a bag?”

He gave an apologetic look as he paused, hand hovering over your underwear drawer. “We have a case in LA,” he replied plainly. 

“Mhmm,” you said, furrowing your brows. “And you… need a pair of my leopard print underwear for that?”

He stammered and shook his head, and even though it was dark, it was an unquestionable fact that he was blushing. “No, (Y/N), you’re coming with me.” You furrowed your brows as he sat on the end of the bed, meeting your gaze. “I don’t want you all the way across the country with a concussion and an iron deficiency. I’m paying for you to be put up at the same hotel, I’ll cover your meals, I’ll even pay for you to go sightseeing. I just want you close.”

You nodded, leaning forward to place a kiss on his lips. “Sure,” you replied. “Let me shower, and then I’ll help you finish packing.”

The morning was barely creeping over the horizon when you made it to the airport, a frown on your lips as you stepped towards the security check. You didn’t like flying alone, but you knew you couldn’t go with him on the jet. It was sheer luck that you had even gotten a flight so last minute, even if it was on a particularly shitty airline.

“Have a safe flight,” he said, leaning down to give you a brief kiss. “I really don’t even need to say that because studies have shown that air travel is significantly safer than traveling by car, but—“ You cut him off with another kiss, leaning back after you were sure you had significantly disturbed the other early-risers at the airport. “I love you.”

“I love you too. I’ll see you in LA, Dr. Reid.”

——

You stepped off the plane in a significantly worse mood than you had boarded in. You were _lucky_ enough to have gotten a seat next to an older woman who couldn’t keep her hands off of the baby bump, and spent the flight lecturing you on parenting do’s and don’ts. 

Your head was aching, and you weren’t sure if you should have attested that to the concussion or the women. The city was grossly hot as you waited in line for a taxi, and you made a show of putting a hand on your belly with the hopes that someone would let you cut in line. It didn’t happen.

Arriving at the hotel, you immediately jumped into the buffet line to gorge on any and everything that you could get your hands on, almost crying at the sight of a cereal bar.

Spencer’s head just wasn’t in it. Any ounce of spare time he had was spent thinking about you, the baby, and how much he wanted to be with you. He realized that it wasn’t fair to the dead couples and the families who were counting on him to catch the unsub, but he couldn’t help it.

“Reid,” Tara said, startling him from the half-trance he’d gotten into. “Two new victims, this time it’s a married couple, Sarah and Noah Parker. The unsub left a witness, their five-year-old daughter Emma.”

He furrowed his brows, thinking back on the other crime scenes. It had been clean-cut-- no witnesses, nothing left to lead anyone back to him. A witness was new, proof that he was devolving. But there was something else-- an intense sadness in the pit of his stomach. 

It wasn’t like him to let a case dig in and take root within him, but the time he’d spent with you was making him softer. There were so many nights when you still worked at the BAU that you would go into his hotel room and cry while he feebly attempted to comfort you. He’d hated and loved those times with equal measure, but he never thought he’d become so much like _you_.

Emma walked into the precinct, holding an older police officer’s hand, her lips wobbly, the sleeves of her pale yellow shirt stained crimson. She had a backpack shaped like a dog on her back, and he could see a white stuffed bear peeking its head out of the top. 

“Hi,” he said softly, bending down to her eye level. “You must be Emma. I’m Spencer.” She looked down at the floor, her big brown eyes watery. “That’s a very nice bear you have with you. Can you tell me its name?”

She looked up nervously, her hands fidgeting. “ _Teddy_.”

A smile spread across his lips. “Wow! That’s my favorite name.” Emma gave a shy smile before awkwardly removing her backpack and pulling the bear from inside, abandoning the bag so she could squeeze Teddy to her chest. “Why don’t we go sit down in here, and I can have one of my friends bring snacks for you and Teddy?”

Emma nodded, reaching out to put her hand in Spencer’s. He stood, ambling so her tiny legs could keep up. As soon as the two of them crossed the doorway, Emma let go of his hand and immediately ran for the couch, which was faded and worn, maybe just as old as the precinct. Nestled against the cushions, she sat Teddy beside her and started toying with her wild curls nervously. 

Tara brought in a strawberry kiwi Snapple poured into two coffee cups and two bags of nutter butters. Spencer mouthed a silent thank you and turned to Emma, who had begun quietly snacking. 

“You told the police officers out there that you saw someone,” Spencer noted, waiting for Emma to nod. She froze, her hands wrapped around the paper cup, and gave a solemn nod. “Do you think you could describe him for me?”

Her brows furrowed, knitting together as she looked up at him. “Not a _him_ ,” She said pointedly. “I saw a lady.”

Spencer nodded and she pushed the spare paper cup towards him, _sharing_. He took a small sip and tried to word a proper question. “Did she have hair like you? Or like…” He trailed off and pointed to JJ, who was speaking to an officer just outside of the door. “Or like my friend JJ?”

She thought for a moment and shrugged. “Like me,” she sighed, taking another cookie from the bag. “She found me under my bed with Teddy and made me come out. She told _me_ not to tell anyone that she saw me, but Teddy has a telescope and sees everything.”

Spencer furrowed his brows, looking at the bear skeptically. “A telescope, Emma?” He asked softly. She nodded, pointing at the bear’s eyes before miming the clicking of a camera. His eyes went wide and he brought a smile to his lips. “Do you think that my friend Penelope could borrow Teddy? That way she can talk to him and see what he saw?”

Emma nodded and looked towards the door, a frown turning her lips. “Is my Mommy going to pick me up soon?”

It was only five in the afternoon when there was a knock on your door, and you padded towards the door with a green facemask smeared on your skin. Spencer was on the other end, He looked rumpled and distraught, a polar opposite to how you’d seen him just before your flight. 

“Spence?” You asked, pushing the door open. He enveloped you in a tight hug, breathing shakily as he tried to keep himself from crying. “Spence, honey, come sit down.”

But he didn’t let go. You weren’t even sure if he _could have_ if he wanted to. You pulled back, holding his face in your hands while tears slipped down his cheeks and onto your palms. “Spencer, I’m here,” you said softly, looking into his eyes. “Do you want to go lie down?”

He nodded and you gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. “Let me go wash this off, and I’ll put on that movie I’ve been meaning to watch.” He nodded, and you could hear him shedding his work clothes as you rinsed off the goopy mask into the sink. He was already tucked beneath the hotel comforter, the tears on his cheeks dried. 

You slipped beneath the blankets, tangling your legs with his, pressing your foreheads together. He didn’t need to explain, not yet. Not ever, unless he really wanted to. You had been there plenty of times. “Do you want to order some food?”

“Don’t have an appetite.”

You nodded, moving your fingers to his hair, so you could gently toy with the strands. He gave a contented sigh, his lips wobbling as he fought the urge to cry. “That’s alright, Spence,” you assured, pressing your lips to his forehead. “Do you just want me to hold you for a while?”

It was thirty minutes before he finally spoke up, his voice broken and small. “There was a little girl who practically caught the unsub for us,” he explained. “She’s five, and she was so sweet, and she has no one anymore. Her parents are dead, and she’s all alone, and I can’t stop thinking about how she’s spending tonight sad and scared and missing her family.”

You nodded, unsure if there was anything you could say to ease the hurt in his heart. There were no simple platitudes that could stitch up the wound that meeting victims caused. No words that would even work as a bandaid. 

“The world is a painful place to live,” you said, rubbing circles on his back. “But you’ve done more to make it kinder than most people even dream of doing in a lifetime.”

“It didn’t hurt as much before,” he admitted. “But now there’s you, and our baby, and it’s like everything I see is a microcosm for all of the dangers that I feel so inadequately prepared to protect you from.”

“We’re both right here,” you said, moving his hand down to your belly. “Both of us are here. _You’re_ here. I’m so sorry that today was painful. I’d take it all away if I could.”

He nodded, a smile quirking his lips. “You said you wanted to watch a movie?”

“Mhmm,” you replied, sitting up so you could grab the remote from the nightstand. “It’s that new horror movie with Lila Archer in it. I always watch her stuff when I need cheering up.”

“I don’t…” He trailed off, and you raised a brow. “I don’t know if I’ll like her movies.”

“Your voice is all pitchy and weird,” you noted, a grin spreading across your lips. “You think she’s hot, don’t you?” His cheeks went pink and you giggled. “Aw, Spence, that’s so sweet. I promise I won’t tease you about it if you let me watch the movie.”

He gave a resigned sigh and nodded, which was all you needed to queue up the movie and snuggle up against him. “I think she’s hot too,” you whispered as the blonde actress appeared onscreen, scantily clad as she walked into the sorority. “Maybe a little old to be playing a college kid, but I digress.”

A knock sounded on the door and you grinned, hopping up from the bed to open up. Spencer sat up in bed, his brows furrowed as you flicked on the lights and ushered your friends into the room. 

“I thought you needed cheering up, so I invited everyone for a movie night,” you explained as the rest of the BAU filed into the tiny hotel room, squeezing onto the bed, sitting on the extra chairs, and laying on the floor with the extra blankets when there was no space left. 

Penelope handed you a bowl of popcorn and you smiled gratefully, squeezing between Spencer and Emily at the top of the bed, while Luke stretched across the foot. 

“Not Lila Archer,” Tara groaned, glancing back in your direction. “The poor girl hasn’t been able to land a good role since all that drama in ‘06.”

“Her loss is our gain,” Penelope said with a grin, popping a sour candy into her mouth. 

The movie played on, for better or for worse. You all watched with mortification and glee as overacted, gory deaths played on screen, rooting for ill-fated characters, yelling when they made the clearly wrong decisions that would ultimately lead to their doom. 

And was it a Lila Archer film without a gratuitous makeout scene? It made no sense, really, for her and the man she was trapped with in the basement to engage in heavy petting, _but_ it was a B movie, and you couldn’t expect anything more from it. 

“She looks like such a good kisser,” you noted, popping a piece of candy into your mouth. “Like… that’s the kind of person who you _want_ to kiss. She knows what she’s doing.”

“Spencer would know,” JJ teased with a grin, nudging him with her elbow while he turned beet red. 

“ _What?_ ” You whispered incredulously.

He stammered, even the tips of his ears burned a bright red as he struggled to explain. “Uh… let’s talk about that some other time.”

The movie ended after what felt like a lifetime. Still, the team stayed in the room, talking and distracting Spencer until you were all yawning and drowsing between additions to the conversation. JJ was the last out and even helped you clean the crumbs and candy boxes from the floor after Spencer fell asleep in the bed.

After your ever-growing nighttime routine, you climbed in beside him, resting your head on his chest as he instinctively wrapped his arms around you.

A smile played on your lips as you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his nose, which he wrinkled in response. “Lila Archer?” You asked with a giggle.

He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. “It was a case in LA,” he answered finally. “She pulled me into a pool, and we kissed. Then someone tried to kill her, and I was in a few magazines. It was weird.”

 _Hmm._ You shrugged and laid back down against his chest, sighing contentedly as he rubbed your back, lulling you into a comfortable sleep.

In the morning, Spencer had already packed your bags for you. You sat up lazily and smiled, glancing at the clock. He was in a rush to get home, for a reason you didn’t quite know.

“I was thinking,” you said as he rushed around the room, searching for the tie he was wearing the day before. “I’d like to visit your mom on the way home. I’m sure you’ve told her that she’s got a grandchild on the way, but I thought it would be nice for us to see each other and—“

“No.”

 _No?_ Your brows furrowed as his expression went grim— your stomach turning with guilt. Had you overstepped? Had he not told her? “ _Oh._ I just thought that-“ You shook your head sheepishly. “Nevermind. Uh, do you need any help?”

“No, it’s fine.” You nodded, a frown turning your lips as you watched him roll your suitcases by the door. “I’ll meet you in the lobby in an hour.” And he was gone.

As soon as you heard the door lock you released a breath, brows furrowed at the sudden change in his behavior. _Yesterday was rough_ , you reminded yourself. _That’s probably it_. 

But you weren’t very convinced.


	6. Desperate Times

**series rating: E (18+)**

****_→ chapter rating: M_ **   
**

**_tags: language, pregnancy, drug mention, prison reid stuff lmao (my plot rewrite starts *after* this chapter, i promise), MAJOR spoilers for season 12 and the prison arc :)_ **

****************** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

The leather was rough underneath your palm, which was damp with nerves. Your pulse hummed in your throat, and you could feel the judging glances weighing heavy on you. It felt like there was a scarlet letter stitched onto your skin, branding you a thing to be pitied and lamented. 

_Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you god?_ You swallowed, nodding at the plaintiff. “I swear.” Your voice felt thready, so you cleared your throat, a hand on your swollen belly as you made your way to your seat. It took a while to collect yourself once you sat down, breathing through your nose as you tried to will the tears out of your eyes. 

“Are you alright?” The plaintiff asked, leaning across the wood barrier. 

“Yes,” you replied squeezing your hands into fists at your sides as you prepared for the onslaught of questions. “Thank you.”

[[MORE]]

“Can you state your name for the record?”

You cleared your throat, stating your name clearly into the microphone. You hated how your voice sounded— so different and foreign to what you knew. Raw from crying, from screaming and yelling. No amount of makeup or pretty clothes could hide the fact that you were being eaten alive by what was going on.

“How long have you known the defendant?”

_It was late, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go home. There was something so empty about your new apartment, which was still full of boxes and felt occupied by the ghosts of the past residents._

_The paperwork was a welcome distraction, though, the sound of the pen against paper hypnotic. You didn’t even realize you’d fallen asleep at your desk until you heard tapping on the surface of your desk and startled awake._

_“You looked uncomfortable.”_

_“I was,” you said groggily, stretching with a contented sigh. “On your way home, Dr. Reid?”_

_He had his cardigan slung over one of his crutches, and his satchel across his chest. “I could walk you out, if you want.”_

_You nodded, even though you desperately wanted to be anywhere except your barren flat. You walked slow to keep the pace with him, although he seemed quite proficient on crutches. But the elevator ride was silent and awkward. The only sound was the hum of machinery and the occasional ding of passing floors._

_“I’m sorry,” you said finally, meeting his gaze. “For shutting the elevator on you a few days ago.”_

_“You don’t need to apologize,” he insisted, an amused grin on his lips. “I could tell that you were nervous, and I figured that you’d make it up to me eventually.”_

_You raised a brow, the corners of your lips twitching. “How so?” You asked, pausing to take in the sight of him across the elevator. “Like on a date?”_

_He flustered, shaking his head and stammering out a sheepish, “No! I didn’t miss the elevator so I could ask you on a date.” And then he heard your laugh and it was like everything melted away._

_“Do you take the metro?” You asked. He nodded and you smiled over at him, looking far too ethereal for the dull work clothes you had worn that day. “Where are you headed?”_

_He fell in love with the look of sheer excitement that fell across your features when he said his address, the same one, he knew, as yours. He had realized that it was you across from him a few days ago, when he was about to leave for work and saw you just across the hall, locking the door behind you with a key ring filled with ridiculous keychains.._

_“Well, Dr. Reid, it seems like you’ll have trouble getting rid of me.”_

“About seven years,” you answered. 

“And how long have you been romantically involved with the defendant?”

Your face felt hot. “Um…” You trailed off wondering if sleeping together counted as _romantic involvement_ , or if they were asking how long you’d officially been together. “About a year now, but only officially for the past six months.”

Fiona stepped forward, and gave a comforting smile as she approached. “And in the past six months, would you consider Spencer to have been present and available in your life?”

 _No_. _No. But you couldn’t say that. You couldn’t admit to those gnawing, bitter feelings with his future on the line, and the threat of prison looming over him._

“He has a very demanding job,” you replied defensively, heart hammering in your chest. “And with Diana moving in, and the baby on the way, I know that whenever he could have been with us, he was. And when he was on a case, he was never more than a phone call away. Spencer isn’t the type of person to walk out on the people he loves.”

“A yes or no would be fine.”

“ _Yes_ ,” you said firmly. But you felt the bitterness in your heart, souring your tongue. Maybe they could all hear it too. You know you could. If you could bring yourself to look at Spencer, you felt like you would have seen guilt on his face. A part of you _wanted_ to.

“ _Yep_ , _that was a kick,” you said with a grin, trying to capture the movement on camera as Spencer watched through the phone. “Oof, I think that she’s trying to tell mama she’s awake.” Your smile grew as you moved your hand, trying to find the next kick before it happened. “Okay, she’s definitely operating on_ this _hemisphere.” You gestured to the left half of your belly, which was only just starting to pop._

_But Spencer was quiet, and you didn’t realize until you glanced back at the screen that he was working on the case while you essentially talked to yourself. It had been like this for a while. A month after LA, and you were struggling to keep his attention off of… whatever it was that he was occupying his time with._

_You had stopped bringing up Diana after the first few attempts, which ended with awkward silences and biting responses from Spencer. Whatever it was that he was worried about, he didn’t want you privy to it, which only bothered you more._

_“Hey,” you said, bringing a smile to your lips. “I’ve been thinking about names.” He looked at the screen, brows furrowing._

_“Really?”_

_“Yeah.” You smiled, holding up a notebook page of names, most of which had been scratched out. “I have a shortlist to go through with you when you get back.” You could see the excitement on his face… followed by a brief lapse that told you all you needed. “You’re not coming right home, are you?” He shook his head. “How long?”_

_A sigh escaped his lips. “I don’t know,” he answered softly. “I want to be there with you and the baby, but I need to check on my mother before I can come home.”_

_He’d come right home for the past few cases, had been home the past two weekends… you should’ve expected that maybe it wouldn’t last. “Give her my love?” He nodded, offering a small smile. “But… Uh, I do want to talk with you about names when you get back. Just something to look forward to, right?”_

_“I should get started on narrowing down my list too,” he said, retrieving a piece of paper from the pocket of his jacket. It was illegible, practically a giant smudge of black ink. You laughed, squinting to see if you could make some of the scribbles out before he folded it back up and tucked it away. “You’ll see mine when I see yours. Something to look forward to.”_

_You nodded, unable to bear the thought of hanging up… not yet. “I love you, Spence. Stay on the line?”_

_He nodded, talking to keep you company until you fell asleep to the sound of his voice, and probably even after that. In the morning, your phone was dead and buried beneath a mountain of blankets._

_But you could smell pancakes cooking, and hear Spencer’s stupid love song playlist over the speakers. You were out of the bed before you could properly realize what was going on, running into the kitchen where Spencer was struggling to properly flip a pancake without tossing it onto the floor._

_“You’re home,” you said, unable to keep the smile off of your lips. He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours, gently and reverently. “I thought…”_

_“Couldn’t stay away from my girls that long,” he replied, dropping the spatula so he could crouch down and kiss your belly. He looked up with you, pure, unadulterated adoration in his eyes. “Besides, I think we have a few lists to look over.”_

——

_“Spence, Hypatia sounds like an allergy medicine,” you said firmly, sprawled out across his lap as you both went over your respective name lists. “I understand that you like the context, but… modernize a bit.”_

_He sighed and, begrudgingly, removed the name from his list before looking at the next name on yours. “Say-or-see,” he sounded out, furrowing his brows._

_“Saoirse,” you corrected, pausing before you gave a defeated sigh. “No one’s gonna pronounce that one right, are they?” He shook his head, and crossed it off the list. “Uh… Spence… we are not naming our daughter Dahlia when you hunt serial killers for a living. Cross it off.”_

_Two hours later, both of your stomachs were grumbling and you were growing tired of the no-pile consistently growing while your maybe-pile stayed tragically empty. Spencer liked a… certain type of name. Far from trendy, but too weird to be classic. The types of names that hippies would name their children, though in his case it seemed unintentional._

_“What do you think about Evelyn?” You asked as you read his list, raising a brow. “It’s a little less pretentious than Evangeline, Spence.”_

_Spencer drew his brows together, thinking for a moment before he nodded “Evelyn is pretty.”_

_You hummed, a smile stretching your lips as you tested the way it sounded. “Evelyn Reid… It’s cute. We could call her Evie.”_

_“You think?” He asked, his hand settling on the swell of your stomach. “Evelyn Alexandria Reid… It sounds right, doesn’t it?”_

_You nodded, your chest feeling light and bubbly. “Yeah, I think it does. Alexandria, though?”_

_A smile stretched his lips as he nodded. “I uh… wanted to name her after the person who helped me through a rough year, at least sort of. Would that be okay?”_

_Evelyn Alexandria Reid. Little Evie. “Her initials are going to spell ear,” you said finally, scrunching your nose. “Do you think she’ll hate us for it?”_

_He tossed the list to the side and leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. You smiled against him, wrapping your arms around his neck so you could get closer. You relished in the scrape of stubble against your skin, laughing between brief, chaste kisses. “As long as we don’t buy her any monogrammed things, I’d say we’re fine.”_

_You could’ve stayed there, in that moment, for the rest of time and have been content. Safe in his arms, happy and hopeful._

“I imagine with the baby on the way, you and Dr. Reid have plans for the coming months,” Fiona added, and you could see exactly where she was leading the conversation. It was a messy road, one that you were still navigating with tired legs and muddy shoes.

“At one point we were looking for houses where we could potentially raise our girl,” you said, a frown wavering on your lips. “And I had suggested that we look for a house big enough that his mother would always have a place to stay. Spencer was always sending me links to preschools and houses that would be good for our family.”

“Can you remember the last time he suggested plans for your future?”

You paused, taking a sip of water while you tried to untangle the jumbled mess of thoughts that were bouncing around in your mind. “About a week ago he made plans with a realtor to see a property we’ve had our eye on. That appointment was supposed to happen on the sixteenth, but _..._ ”

 _But Mexico happened._ Because of course it did. 

Someone else got the house, too. A cute family with a big fluffy dog and two boys that could play all day in the big backyard. Maybe they’d tie a swing in the big oak tree in the front, or paint the front door a fun color like you had wanted to do. They’d probably decorate it beautifully for halloween, and string up lights in the winter. 

“Thank you, (Y/N). No further questions, your honor.”

It was then that you let yourself look at Spencer. It was a nice suit he wore, not one of his best, but you thought that he looked nice regardless. Despite how _normal_ he appeared, it hurt to look at him. It hurt to know that he was hurting, and that there was absolutely _nothing_ you could do to help. 

_God_ , you had _wanted_ to help. You practically begged him to let you in on whatever he was hiding, just to erase the worry lines from his face. And now… you could see why he hadn’t let you in on what he was hiding, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. 

And then he met your gaze, the tiniest of smiles playing on your lips. An, “ _it’s okay.”_ A, _“don’t worry about me._ ” You couldn’t smile, you couldn’t allow yourself that. So you nodded and willed the tears from your eyes. 

You had zoned out, lost yourself to thought and missed all the words happening around you. All you knew was that the prosecution was approaching, and you were terrified that they were going to twist your words to hurt Spencer.

You took another drink of water, and cursed yourself for it because Evie was _right_ on your bladder at the moment. Still, you bounced your knee nervously as you watched the lawyer approach, feeling sick in the pit of your stomach. 

“This week must have been difficult for you,” the prosecuting attourney said, giving a smile that seemed sympathetic, although the earnestness was hard to gauge. You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek as you waited for the other shoe to drop. “Although, I suppose you must have plenty of experience navigating your pregnancy alone.”

You swallowed, trying to keep your face civil. “I used to be an agent with the BAU,” you replied. “I understand the sacrifices that Spencer has to make and the responsibilities that are constantly weighing on his shoulders. But to answer your question, _yes_ , I have experience navigating my pregnancy alone, and I always expected as much.”

“But his absence wasn’t always because of work, was it?”

You swallowed, clenching your jaw as you exhaled slowly. After allowing yourself a second to compose yourself, you looked into his eyes. “No.”

_Spencer was away again. This time, it wasn’t because of a case. He’d gotten a call from his mother that had bothered him. You didn’t know what the call was about, or why it had upset him so much, just that he packed a quick bag and booked a flight within the hour._

_You didn’t want to pry, but you did want to make sure that Spencer was okay. You had a key to his place, anyway. If he didn’t want you to use it, you wouldn’t have it._

_His apartment was dim and smelled of household cleaners and old paper. It vaguely reminded you of a public library, one that had been abandoned and had fallen into disuse. You grabbed one of his cardigans that hung off the back of a chair and wrapped it around yourself as you meandered around the apartment._

_You felt like a knockoff Nancy Drew, searching for clues that would magically jump out and solve the case-- what is bothering Spencer? She’d gotten into the clinical trial, right? Things were supposed to be going well… unless they weren’t._

_What made that so bad that he couldn’t tell you? That he didn’t even want you around her? It was invasive of you, and probably against your better judgement, but you had to know. His desk was cluttered and messy, littered with pages and pages of documents that might have been in some sort of order, but it was an order you couldn’t comprehend._

_“Damn it, Spence,” you muttered, settling into the seat with a groan as you tried to maneuver the swell of your belly between the desk and the arms of the chair. “It’s going to take me forever to sort through this.”_

_If the answer is even in there._

_With a groan, you tied your hair back and set to work sorting through the papers, chewing on your lip as you organized the papers by relevance, or at least, a relevance that you could gather. Most of it were old documents he’d printed for case research-- biological diagrams, studies on the effects of certain party drugs on behavior and the brain. Absolutely riveting reading material for Spencer, but completely meaningless to you._

_With a huff, you flipped through the remaining pages, an untouched pile that seemed even more daunting than the last. You could feel Evie moving around within you, landing the occasional jab that let you know she was up and active. “Okay, sweet pea, let’s see if we can’t figure this out.”_

—— _  
_

_Spencer got home on Monday night wearing the same clothes he’d left in, only they were wrinkled and worn. You greeted him with a kiss on the forehead, and he smiled gratefully. You could see the exhaustion in every fiber of his being, you wanted to make it better, you wanted to help in any way you could._

_“Your mom…” You started, resting against his shoulder as you spoke. “Is she doing okay? You seemed really worried after that call.”_

_He nodded, then rested his head on top of yours. A deep sigh escaped him, one that suggested a weight that he was hiding from you. And not even particularly well._

_“Spence, I know that she isn’t taking to the clinical trial,” you admitted, holding your breath as a silence fell upon the both of you. He went still, and you scattered to fill the void. “I read the papers on your desk, and I just want to help as much as I_ — _”_

_But before you could finish your sentence he was off the couch, putting as much distance between you and himself as he possibly could. “You… you went through my things?”_

_You let out an exasperated breath and nodded, standing up to make yourself feel bigger than you felt. You knew it wasn’t right, but it wasn’t fair of him to hide things either. “Is that why you don’t want me around her, Spence?” You asked, taking a step forward. “I knew something was wrong after LA, but things just kept getting worse and you wouldn’t tell me anything, so I found out for myself.”_

_He shook his head, jaw clenched as he took in the sight of you. There was no apology in what you said, rather a sense that you were owed what you took. And you knew that it made everything worse. You could practically see him struggling for words that would fit what he was feeling, and you waited for the bite to come with exposed flesh._

_“Just because you’re pregnant with my kid, doesn’t mean you’re entitled to every facet of my life,” he finally said, venom dripping from his tongue. “And did you consider that maybe if I thought I could’ve trusted you with what was going on, I would’ve told you?”_

_You set your jaw, crossing your arms as you looked at him. “What’s there to hide, Spencer?” You asked. He didn’t answer and you rolled your eyes. “You know what I think? I think you live to please your Mother, no matter the cost, and you’re terrified she’ll be disappointed when you tell her that she’s not going to be the only woman in your life anymore. ANd you’re such a fucking mama’s boy that you’d rather push me away than admit that you might not be the perfect son she thinks you are.”_

_You had expected him to be hurt, to see the icy facade melt and reveal the damage you had done. It wasn’t fair, you didn’t even know why you were so mad, but you were. Hadn’t you done enough to earn his trust? Did JJ know? Did Derek? Why not you?_

_“I think that you’re empty inside,” he said. Like it was a fact. Like he had known for years and had only then deigned to tell you. “You’re empty and bored and you thought that a baby could fill the hollow void inside of you.”_

_You swallowed, closed your eyes, and took a breath. When you opened them, you could see the fear and regret in his expression. “Get the fuck out, Reid.”_

_He ducked his head like a kicked puppy, grabbed his bag, and left. It was a week before he worked up the courage to come back, no doubt with the encouragement of the entire BAU, and most of all, Penelope._

_As soon as you opened the door and saw him, he let the words tumble from his lips, like he was terrified you would shut the door on him. His hands gripped the bouquet of flowers so tightly that you feared he might snap them in half._

_“The fact that it’s taken me this long to get over here shows how cowardly I’ve been… and that I knew I was wrong,” he said quickly, his voice wobbly and nervous. “You hit me where you knew it would hurt, and I wanted to do the same, but what I said was unforgivable. I’m sorry.”_

_“Yeah, it was,” You said, setting your jaw so you didn’t let your expression waver. “I think we both said things we regret, and I’m sorry about that too.”_

_He shifted his weight nervously, scratching at the back of his neck. “I, uh, I made you dinner over at my place.”_

_You raised a brow, the tiniest of smiles turning your lips. “You’re an awful cook,” you noted._

_His cheeks went pink. “I’ve spent some time practicing,” he admitted. “I want to be able to help out once the baby is here. Will you come over?”_

_You nodded hesitantly, the bitterness still lurking beneath the surface._

_Ten minutes later, you found yourself outside of his door, hand poised to knock when second thoughts washed over you. There was a gnawing feeling in the back of your mind, a sense that he was still keeping things from you._

_With a sigh, you knocked on the door, and let yourself in._

_A record spun on the turntable, and you thought that maybe it was Chopin, but you weren’t really sure. You slipped on one of his cardigans from the coat rack and bundled yourself up as you made your way into the kitchen, the oversized piece of clothing anything but as it fell upon your pregnancy bump, which felt more akin to a blimp lately._

_“Hey,” you said softly, rolling up the sleeves as you made your way beside him. “What are we cooking?”_

_He shook his head, moving the paring knife from your hand gently. “I was just trying to chop some basil to garnish the food. Everything’s on the table.”_

_“Silverware?” You asked. He nodded. “Napkins?” Again, he nodded insistently. “At least let me pour us both something to drink.”_

_“I have that covered too,” he replied. “And dessert is already in the fridge.”_

_You knew he was sorry, everything about him screamed it. You were so tired of being angry at him, so tired of being resentful and upset. Acting like that night was going to heal all wounds was like thinking you could put a bandaid over a bullet hole. But it was a start._

The memory was bittersweet on your tongue, so you washed it down with another sip of water. Your one word answer gave everyone more than enough time to fill in the blanks. Spencer wasn’t an idiot; he knew that what he was doing was risky. He made a calculated risk, and part of that calculation proved that you and the baby weren’t going to come first. 

And what was so frustrating is that you _knew_ nothing he did came from a place of malcontent. All he wanted was to help his mother get better. Spencer was a good person. A good person who had been taken advantage of and framed for something that was completely out of character, and that made you angrier than anything else. 

“And when he was away, did he ever tell you why he was leaving?”

“No,” you said, heart hammering wildly in your chest. 

“How about important moments? Did Dr. Reid ever miss any milestones?”

You closed your eyes, looking down at your lap. “Yes,” you answered quietly. “He missed the baby shower.”

_Penelope’s house was awash in shades of pink and green, with fairy lights along the walls and hanging across the ceiling. Everyone else was drinking mimosas and you had… fruit water. Every once in a while, someone would stop by and spin around you, a length of ribbon in their hands as they tried to guess the size of your bump, which made you a little uncomfortable._

_You kept glancing down at your phone, and then to the door, your brows knit with concern. Where was he? He’d been staying in his own apartment ever since Diana had moved back, so you figured he might be a little late, but he knew he had to be there. Didn’t he?_

_You took another sip of water and looked at the giant pile of gifts beside the fancy rocking chair (with a pretty gold bow on top) that Rossi had bought for you. It wasn’t even on the registry, but he didn’t really care. You figured he had a few more gifts tucked away within the pile as well._

_All you could think about was how badly you needed to catch your breath and how awful it felt to have all of the attention on you. Especially when Spencer’s absence was like a huge shadow over the entire party. After all, Derek was there, Luke was there, Rossi and Grant were there. How can you have a couple’s baby shower if half of the couple isn’t there?_

_“(Y/N)?” You turned to see Emily beside you, and felt sheepish that you were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice her. “Why don’t we go step outside?”_

_You nodded, your throat felt thick and choked up as you followed her, practically pushing past the door to get a deep breath. She rubbed your back while you dialed Spencer’s number again and it went to voicemail… again. You shook your head and took another breath, pocketing your phone once more._

_“I’m going to tell Pen to stop waiting for him,” you said finally, fixing your hair before opening the door once more, bringing an easy smile to your lips as you made your way into the kitchen._

_Penelope and Luke were leaning over her kitchen table, working on outdoing each other with their respective onesie designs. You wrinkled your nose at the sight of… so much glitter on Pen’s and tapped her shoulder. “Hey, I feel bad making everyone wait around. I think we should start opening gifts.”_

_She turned quickly, her hot glue gun dripping glue onto the tile beneath her feet as she frowned. “But Big Genius isn’t here to see what presents we bought for Baby Genius.”_

_“I know,” you said, giving a reassuring smile. “He had a mom emergency at home. He’d be here if he could, I promise.”_

_So you opened all of the presents with Penelope’s help, fawning over the tiny onesies, faking grateful smiles at particularly ugly blankets and diaper bags. But, really, having everyone there, and being overwhelmed by the gifts they’d brought just proved that you had a legion of people who would do anything for you and Spencer._

_It made you feel better, for a while. But the party ended. Luke, Emily, and JJ carried all of your new presents into the baby’s room, which was still yet to be decorated or assembled, while you crossed the hall and knocked gently on Spencer’s door._

_It went unanswered, for a while, but eventually the door creaked open, and you furrowed your brows at the sight of Diana’s caretaker. You brought a polite smile to your lips and tilted your head to the side. “I’m sorry, is Spencer not home?”_

_She gave a frown and shook her head. “No, he left early this morning,” she explained. “But he told me that he would be back tomorrow.”_

_“Oh… Alright,” you said, knitting your brows together. “Sorry, I won’t keep you any longer. Thanks for letting me know.”_

_If she said anything, it fell upon deaf ears. Back in the apartment, there was still the commotion of boxes being unloaded and baby onesies being folded and tucked away or hung in the closet. A part of you wanted to help, but you figured that they’d understand why you couldn’t. So as soon as you got back in, you locked yourself inside of your bedroom and buried your head in your hands so you could finally cry._

_The next day, Spencer woke you up as he crawled into bed, wrapping his arms around you lazily. “Good morning,” he said, his voice gravelly and sleepy._

_“Is everything okay?” You asked, giving a resigned sigh. “Please just tell me if there’s something you need help with, because, Jesus, Spence, I’d drop anything to help you if you just let me in.”_

_“Everything is fine,” he insisted. “Why wouldn’t it be?”_

_You shrugged his arms off and stood, rolling your eyes as you grabbed your robe off of the end of the bed. “I really wish I believed you, Spencer,” you replied bitterly. “You missed the baby shower yesterday. And I don’t want to ask this, but I think I have to.”_

_He sat up in bed, brows furrowed as he watched you put distance between the two of you. YOur back was against your dresser, and you picked at your cuticles before you finally let the question fall past your lips. “Are you using again?”_

_His expression dulled, and you could see the hurt, the betrayal in his eyes. “No,” he said, his voice watery, like he was fighting back tears. “No, I’m not… I worked too hard to just put myself right back there again.”_

_“Please tell me what’s going on then,” you said weakly. “You’ve been so distant since November, and I promise that whatever it is you’re going through, I will help without judgement if you just trust me. That’s all I want.”_

_A tear slipped down his cheek and you felt yourself weaken, just a little. He wiped it away just as quickly as it fell, crinkling his nose as he fought the urge to submit himself to his emotions and just let himself cry. “I want to tell you,” he finally admitted. “But I can’t let you get involved because I love you.”_

_You shook your head, brows furrowing. “Spence, I don’t care what it is,” you insisted, but when he didn’t give in, you sighed and took a breath. “I love you so much. I just want you to be safe and come home to me. Can you promise me that?”_

_He hesitated just a moment before nodding. “I promise I’ll always come home to you, and I’ll tell you what’s going on soon, but I just need time.”_

————— _  
_“Don’t you think that a man who’s willing to leave his pregnant girlfriend behind and miss out on milestones in the pregnancy might also be at risk of sacrificing time with his child and girlfriend in order to secure his freedom?”

You swallowed, taking a deep breath. “Is that a rhetorical question? Of course I don’t think that Spencer would _ever_ want to miss a second that he could possibly spend with his daughter. When he was away and missed things the circumstances were extenuating. He was worried about his mother and he made a judgement call, and I think anyone can understand why he would do that.” 

You took a deep breath, and struggled to force down the anger and rage that was building in your chest. You had tried to be calm for days now, you tried to be civil and understand that everything was out of your control. But you were _livid_. 

Spencer was at risk of going to prison for something you _knew_ he didn’t do, and you were furious. You might have to raise your child alone if they couldn’t find a way to clear his name, and it made you want to scream. Your nails dug into your palm, sure to leave crescent shaped marks and you struggled to regain your sense of calm. 

“No further questions, your honor.”

You wanted to vomit. You stood on shaking legs and looked towards Spencer as you joined the rest of the team on the uncomfortable wooden chairs. Your heart hammered uncomfortably in your chest, your pulse thrumming in your fingertips and your throat. 

_Who’s next?_ You glanced at the team, at JJ, at Emily, and at Penelope, who was holding your hand comfortingly in her lap. Any one of them could have made better points than you had, and you were terrified that you had somehow dug an even deeper hole that Spencer was ill equipped to climb out of. 

“We’d like to call SSA Emily Prentiss to the stand,” Fiona said, standing to address the judge. 

“No need, Miss Duncan, I think I’ve heard enough.”

You knew by the tone. And suddenly you were right back where you were a week ago. 

—————

_Spencer had been gone since the Twelfth. A two day trip, he’d said, I’ll be back soon, you won’t even miss me._

_You wanted to wake up on Valentine’s day to the sound of him singing along badly to love songs in the kitchen, smell whatever he was baking and burning, be able to wrap your arms around him and tell him how glad you were that he was home._

_But the bed was empty. You battled gravity as you sat up, putting a hand on the swell of your stomach. Evie was active this morning, moving around so you could see even from the outside. Spencer thought it was weird when she did that, and to be fair, you did too, but it was at least a little endearing after you got over the Alien of it all._

_You reached for your phone, sending a quick text._

——

**_(Y/N):_ ** _Happy Valentine’s Day Spence :) Let me know if you won’t be home before seven so I can cancel dinner reservations, okay?_

——

_You hated that a text was what the relationship had come to. You promised him time, and you were willing to give him that… but you knew that once the baby arrived, you’d need to tell Penelope or JJ or Derek, or all of them. You just wanted the Spencer you agreed to do this with to come back._

_A knock sounded at the door and you hopped up eagerly, a smile on your lips as you hurried into your fluffy robe and hurried to throw upon the door. But, of course, he wasn’t there on the other side of the door. Instead, there was an exhausted looking delivery boy and a huge bouquet of flowers._

_“Are you (Y/N)?” He asked, reading the clipboard that he was struggling to fit on his arm. You nodded and he handed you the bouquet with a feeble attempt at a smile. “Happy Valentine’s day.” You nodded and shut the door behind you, looking down at the bouquet of pink and white flowers. You found a vase in your kitchen filled with last week’s flowers and dumped them into the trash so you could proudly display your new bouquet._

_As you filled the vace, you noticed the tag, a smile on your lips at Spencer’s messy scrawl._

_“Centuries ago two martyrs named Valentine were killed in Rome, and now I’m trying to figure out which flowers I can put together to say exactly what I feel about you. I’ll explain it to you sometime.”_

_A smile played at your lips as you took in the sight of the bouquet. Some of them certainly didn’t fit very well, which meant Spencer had picked them himself because of a meaning that you were oblivious to._

_You arranged them just-so in the vase and sighed, glancing around the apartment with a contented sigh. Everything was tidy and clean, just as you wanted it. Your nesting instincts had come in full force over the past few days, and you quickly began organizing everything from your closet to the shelves of DVDs and books in your living room._

_You wandered into Evie’s room, which had been freshly painted by Derek and Luke the past weekend in a shade of pale green, with sheer curtains hanging over the windows. You ran your fingers over the cushions of the rocking chair, and toyed with the stuffed frogs on the shelves._

_Tucked within the bed, you found a clumsily knitted blanket that Spencer had made in whatever free time he had_ — _green and white polka dots that matched perfectly with the stuffed pea pod he’d gotten at a toy store he’d visited in New York. You ran your hands over the chunky knit, and then over the soft toy with a grin._

_It was so obvious, just by looking around the room at the various toys and knick knacks that he’d bought that Spencer already loved the baby more than anything else in the entire world. He’d even embroidered her nickname into the blanket, albeit messily._

_You wandered over to the bookshelf, running your fingers over the spines of the books that had already gathered for your daughter. Spencer had organized a surprise baby shower for you after the first_ — _a way to make his absence up for you. Instead of presents, he asked for baby books._

_You missed him then, an amount that made your chest ache._

——

_At six your phone rang, which pulled you from the spontaneous decision to re-fold all of the onesies in Evelyn’s dresser. You smiled, answering before you even looked at the phone._

_“Hey, Spence,” you said with a grin. “I was just thinking about you.”_

_“Unfortunately, I’m not Spencer.” You scrunched your nose at the sound of Penelope’s voice. “Can you come visit me at work?”_

_You furrowed your brows and glanced towards the watch on your wrist. “Bad day?” You asked, smiling down at the shooting star onesie that had been a gift from Alex._

_“Mhmm,” she said, her voice wobbling. “I can have Tara pick you up on her way into the office.”_

_In the middle of the afternoon? You felt a sinking sense of dread in the pit of your stomach that you tried to ignore. Penelope wanted you there. Needed you there, by the sounds of it. You gave a sigh before agreeing. “Sure,” you said finally. “Tell Tara to call me when she’s here, alright?”_

_Tara was there shortly after you ended the call, and you grabbed your purse and a cardigan with a sigh before heading to the elevator and joining her in her fancy sports car. She kept her focus on the road the entire time, even as you nervously texted Spencer._

——

**_(Y/N):_ ** _Heading to Quantico I guess? I figure you’re busy._

**_(Y/N):_ ** _Just let me know if you’re even seeing this?_

——

_You sighed and locked your phone, staring out the window at the Valentine’s traffic, and the couples holding hands as they walked down the street and into fancy restaurants. There were long lines, which was to be expected, and fallen petals littering the streets from bouquets. A heart-shaped balloon was tangled around a light pole._

_“Hey, Tara, would you mind stopping at the gas station just ahead?” You asked with an apologetic laugh. “The baby is… right on my bladder right now.”_

_She nodded quickly, pulling into the lot so you could run in. You wandered the store after, grabbing a few boxes of chocolates and snacks before you headed to the counter. The perk of being a lonely pregnant woman on Valentine’s day? Not so much the pitying looks… but definitely the free stuff._

_You practically waddled back to the car with a huge grin on your face, holding the boxes of chocolate proudly for Tara to see. “Pen’s having a bad day,” you explained. “And the rest is for me.”_

_The rest of the ride, you popped chocolates into your mouth and checked your phone for new messages from Spencer, none of which ever came. By the time you had been given a visitor’s badge and made your way into the Bullpen, Penelope looked utterly distraught._

_The minute she laid eyes on you, she rushed over to envelop you in a hug, holding you tight enough to crush the snacks between the two of you._

_“Hey, Pen, it’s okay,” you insisted, using your free arm to hug her back. “I brought you some candy if it’ll make you feel better.”_

_She pulled back, an unreadable expression on her face. “Can you come sit with me?” She asked. You nodded, following her to the chairs at Spencer’s desk. You sat down slowly, giving a contented sigh as you finally got off of your feet. She placed all of your snacks on his desk and grabbed your hands. “Do you know where Spencer is right now?”_

_Your brows knit together as you shook your head, your heartbeat thudding in your chest. “Um… No. He’s just… He’s away right now, but I don’t know,” You were stammering, words fumbling as you felt increasingly warmer and dizzier. Suddenly you knew why Penelope wanted you to sit. No one wants to see a pregnant woman faint._

_Her manicured hands squeezed yours, her thumbs rubbing circles on the backs of your palm. You couldn’t meet her gaze, afraid of what you might see if you did. “Spencer has been arrested.”_

_Your breath came out in a shaky gasp as you pulled back and shook your head insistently. “No,” you said firmly. “Why would you say that?”_

_But even if you couldn’t admit that you believed her, your body did. You felt ice grip onto your veins as panic took over. Tears welled up in your eyes as you shook your head, bottom lip wobbling. She tried to grab your hands again but you pulled away._

_“He’s in Mexico,” she explained. “And he’s been charged with drug possession and intent to distribute. Does any of this… Does any of this sound like him?”_

_A sob escaped you as you covered your face with your hands. You couldn’t say it. You couldn’t even bring yourself to think about it. “I need to cancel the reservations for tonight,” you said weakly. “I just need to call the restaurant, Penelope. They’re expecting the two of us, and I don’t want to take someone’s table while I’m here and he’s_ —” 

_Penelope enveloped you in her arms, letting you cry against her shoulder as she held you. You could feel the eyes of everyone else on you— JJ, Tara, Stephen. You felt sick, like you wanted to cry or just sleep for days._

_“I asked him,” you said weakly, after a hug that bordered on being uncomfortably long. Your voice was muffled by her clothes. “I asked him if he was using again and he said no.”_

_“What?”_

_“I was worried after the baby shower,” you admitted. “He said he wasn’t, and I believed him. He said to give him time and he would tell me what he was doing.” A shaky sob escaped you. “I should’ve told someone but I was naive.”_

_Penelope shook her head, glancing over towards JJ for help. JJ approached, crouching down beside your chair. She held your hand gently and you took a few centering breaths. You needed to stay calm— if not for the rest of the team, then for Evie._

_“You know Spencer. You’re a good profiler. Was he lying?” JJ asked._

_You closed your eyes and tried to think back to that day, but everything seemed so blurry and strange looking back— like all of the red flags that you should have seen were showing up in technicolor against a monochrome background. “No,” you finally said. “I could see how hurt he was that I even suggested it. He wasn’t lying when he said he wasn’t using.”_

_JJ offered a weak smile. “We think he was framed, (Y/N),” she explained. “Luke, Emily, and Rossi are on their way to Mexico to see him and try to get him extradited.”_

_You rubbed at your eyes, trying to regain a bit of composure. Spencer was in good hands. He had to be or else… or else things would only get worse. Tara handed you a bottle of water, and you gave her an appreciative smile as you sipped at it, hands trembling as you raised it to your lips._

_“There’s a couch in Emily’s office,” JJ noted. “If you want to lay down and rest, she won’t mind at all. All of this stress…”_

_“Bad for the baby,” you agreed, blinking back a new wave of tears. “Please promise me that you’ll update me. Good or bad. Spencer kept me in the dark for months, apparently. I don’t want to be coddled or sheltered anymore.”_

_JJ nodded in agreement and you stood on weak legs, feeling pitying glances as you and Penelope walked up to the office. Penelope pulled the blanket that was tastefully draped across the arm and unfolded it, placing it around you as you laid down on your side, unable to do anything except stare blankly over at Em’s desk._

_“Promise me that you’ll try to sleep?” Penelope asked softly. You nodded, but it seemed that lately both you and Spencer were remarkably bad at keeping promises._

_——_

_“We need to tell her.”_

_“Gently. We don’t want to upset her or overwhelm her.”_

_“I’ll do it.”_

_You feigned sleep as they opened the door, waiting until you felt Penelope’s hand on your arm to blink up at her. You were glad it was her— a profiler would’ve seen that you’d been awake the entire time._

_The proverbial shoe was trembling with the desire to drop. You could feel it like a hum in the air. Could everyone else feel it? Was it intuition, or just dread? “We know why Spencer was in Mexico.”_

_You stayed quietly as she explained the situation. The medicine, the contact, how he’d gotten there each time. The most frustrating part, you decided, was how much easier it would have all been if he had just told you what was happening. “There’s something else.” She looked guilty as the words slipped past her lips. You watched as she glanced down at the floor, mentally preparing to rip off the bandaid. “Nadie Ramos, the doctor he was seeing, was found stabbed to death in the motel Reid met her in. His things were there, he had cocaine and heroin in his system… it all looks very bad.”_

_“He’s going to be charged with murder and drug possession,” you said plainly. “There’s not going to be a way out of this, and he’s in Mexico, and I’m supposed to have a baby in two weeks.”_

_“But,” Penelope said, ever the optimist. “We know it’s Scratch framing him. He said there was another person in the room, and we both know Spencer couldn’t do this. We’ll clear his name and get him home.”_

_“I know that he wouldn’t hurt anyone if he could help it,” you agreed softly, maybe just for her benefit. You couldn’t even tell where your needs ended and every other obligation began. “But this is bad, Pen. Really, really bad, and I am so frustrated right now. I think maybe I just… I need to be alone.”_

_She gave an understanding smile that seemed a little too forced and placed her lips on your forehead before she rejoined the team. In the dark of Emily’s office, you had time to consider just how fucked the entire situation was._

_A cramp made you wince, face scrunching up in distaste until it subsided. Fucking braxton-hicks. Just your luck. Only a few days ago Spencer had told you they would start occurring— a trial run to actual labor. Which is absolutely not what you needed while your boyfriend was in jail in another country._

_You glanced down at your phone. No new messages at all. Just a time— Eight-thirty. YOu missed your reservations._

_——_

_“(Y/N), you need to wake up.” You groaned at the sound, blinking lazily until you remembered where you were and why. Your heart hammered until JJ filled you in._

_“Spencer’s been extradited,” she explained. “They landed a little while ago. They’re letting him stop here first before…” She trailed off, but you could fill in the blanks. She shook her head and gave a weak smile. “So you should get up so you can see him when he comes in. He should be here any minute now.”_

_You nodded, struggling to stand from the couch. The walk through the bullpen and towards the elevator felt like a marathon. Exhaustion (emotional and otherwise) and nerves made everything feel so slow, like you were wading through molasses. You had just made it when the elevator doors parted and he stepped forward— worse for wear, but looking like himself. It was almost like he’d come back from a hard case, except for the jacket slung over his wrists to hide the handcuffs he had to wear._

You rushed forward, enveloping him in your arms. He ducked, and you could feel the bulk of the jacket pressing against your stomach, and you were hyper aware that he couldn’t hug you back. He couldn’t even touch you if he wanted. “Spencer Reid I am so… so mad at you,” you said weakly, pulling back so you could brush his unruly locks out of his face. He wrinkled his nose, trying his hardest not to let tears fall. “You know I hate calling to cancel reservations.”

A smile turned up his lips as you leaned up, giving him a chaste kiss. “I’m sorry if I upset you,” he said, his smile falling as he leaned into your touch. Your hands framed his face, thumbs rubbing the line of his cheekbones as he looked down at you. “Are you and the baby okay?”

You nodded reassuringly and leaned up to place one more kiss on his lips. “We’re both okay, Spence. Now you just need to keep your promise and get back home to us soon.”

Penelope laid beside you in bed, rubbing your back as your tears slipped down your cheeks and soaked into your pillow. As soon as Spencer was denied bail, she told you that she’d stay the night with you. The first fifteen minutes you were home she was busy writing up a chart detailing who would stay over with you on what days, just in case you went into labor. 

Because that was your reality. You were going to have to have this baby _without_ Spencer there… and there was even a chance that he would _never_ be there if they couldn’t prove that he was being framed. 

A part of you couldn’t help but wonder if it was all your fault that he’d been denied bail— that if it were Emily or Rossi who had gone on the stand to vouch for his character that he might have been home with you then. 

The bitterness and anger left your body completely, and, really, you just felt tired. 


	7. Desperate Measures

**series rating: E (18+)**

****_→ chapter rating: M_ **   
**

**_tags: language, pregnancy, childbirth, hospitals, blood, very violent catfight, angst, prison reid (but like vaguely), i cried and sweated writing this_ **

You felt uncomfortably pregnant during the car ride with the seatbelt laying across your belly. Nausea crept up on you, which only made you more conscious of being at week thirty-nine. Nausea and sickness meant impending labor, you knew that, and it felt like every second was just drawing nearer and nearer to your inevitable labor. 

And despite how much you wished you could hold out, on the off chance that Spencer might have his name cleared… you couldn’t fight nature. JJ grabbed your hand on the center console, giving it a squeeze. She’d been where you were, once upon a time. Not in exactly the same way, not even close, but she knew how awful it was to be _that_ pregnant.

“Thank you, for driving me,” you said with a smile. “And… Thank you for not asking.”

“Asking what?” She raised a brow, turning down the radio. 

You sighed. She knew the question on everyone’s minds. The question that they were too sheepish or guilty to ask themselves. “Why it’s been a week and I haven’t gone to see him.”

She shrugged, trying not to let her curiosity get the best of her. Resisting the urge to ask more questions. “It must be hard,” she finally says. “You’re due in _days_ and the father of your child is in prison.”

[[MORE]]

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I think I was just so mad at him. For leaving, for not telling me. _Jesus_ , for getting himself into this mess in the first place. But he’s a good person, and he let his heart cloud his judgement for maybe the first time in his life.”

“You don’t owe anyone an explanation,” she said. “ _But_ I know he’ll be happy to see you today. He’s been asking everyone about you. Your symptoms, if you’ve had any false labor, asking what you’re planning on listening to in the delivery room… he really wishes he could be there.”

You nodded, your throat thick with every single awful feeling you’ve suppressed for the past week. You had almost made it, and your stomach was tied up in knots. Part of you didn’t even know what to say, what you _could_ say to him. Pretty soon, you and JJ had arrived, and it was like every single nervous feeling you had tripled in an instant. 

“Do you want me to go with you?” JJ asked, sipping at a cup of coffee as you stepped out of the car. 

“I’ll be okay,” you insisted. “I’ll be back soon.”

—— 

Spencer looked exhausted. It was the same way he looked after a really troubling case, when he would go quiet and would go days before getting a decent night’s sleep. In any other situation, you’d want to hold him and run your fingers through his hair until he felt safe again. 

As you sat down, Spencer looked at you like he was almost convinced you weren’t real. You could have reached over the barrier, could have so easily put your hand in his, but you knew it wasn’t allowed. No matter how badly you wanted to. 

“It feels idiotic to ask if you’re doing okay,” you said, a sigh escaping your lips. “Are you healthy, though? Are you eating, and sleeping, and being fair to yourself?”

He nodded, his fingertips pressing against the partition. You moved your hand to mirror his, and if you pretended hard enough, you could imagine that the plastic coated surface was the warmth of his hands against yours. You took a breath, closing your eyes for a moment before you let yourself _really_ look at him _._

“Penelope, Luke, and Emily have been taking turns staying the night,” you explained. “I’m sure one of them already told you that, though. They’re all fighting over who gets to be in the delivery room with me.”

He let a tiny smile quirk up the corners of his lips. “Have you picked yet?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you let your gaze fall. “Well… I’m still holding out hope for one specific person.”

His lips wobbled slightly before he closed his mouth in a firm line, fighting the urge to cry. Guilt took hold of your heart and squeezed at the sight. It almost hurt to breathe seeing him like that. 

“Anyways,” you said with a tight lipped smile, desperate to change the subject. “I don’t want you to spend a single second worrying about me. I’m taken care of, alright? I don’t want you to upset yourself by focusing on things that are out of your control.”

He nodded, brushing a bit of hair back into place. It was unruly-- desperately in need of a comb. You even wanted to just fix it with your fingers and toy with it until it was good as new, but you couldn’t. Maybe he could read how desperately you wanted to hold him, to touch him at all, because his fingers twitched against the partition, almost like he wanted to touch you back. 

“Has your mucus plug fallen out yet?” He asked suddenly. 

Your face felt hot as you furrowed your brows. “Spence, _what_?”

“It’s the mucus membrane that protects the cervix and the baby from contact with bacteria. It’s supposed to come out within the weeks leading up to labor, although in some cases it can come out later.”

You shook your head and shrugged. “Um… I don’t know, I guess I haven’t really been paying attention.”

“What about the bloody show? It’s when discharge is pink or red tinged. It usually signals that labor is imminent.”

“Spencer, isn’t this… kind of personal stuff to be talking about _here_ ,” you said gently, glancing to the booths beside you sheepishly. He gave you a pleading look, practically begging you to include him in the final days of your pregnancy in any way he could. With a sigh, you humored him. “I haven’t noticed that yet, but… _how_ imminent would that make labor?”

A smile spread across his lips, easy and unmistakably _Spencer_. Your brows knit together, and you cocked your head to the side, waiting for his answer. 

“After that, labor is practically imminent. Two days at the most.” He glanced down at the place where your hands joined, his fingers stretching slightly over the partition, toeing the line of what was allowed. His smile fell for a moment, only to quirk back up again. “I think you should have Penelope there.”

“Yeah?” You asked with a grin. “If I can’t have one genius in there with me I should have another, right?”

He nodded, laughing lightly. “She’ll be so happy if you ask her,” Spencer said, looking down at the table. “I just wish I could be there.”

Slowly, you stretched your fingers up, the pad of your middle finger brushing his just slightly. He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of your skin against his, the warmth, the sensation. It was as close to a comforting gesture that you could get without getting him in trouble. Maybe he would be, if he got caught. He glanced back and drew his hand into his lap, chewing on his chapped lips. 

“You know there won’t be a day that goes by that she doesn’t know that you love her,” you said gently. “And pretty soon you’ll be able to tell her yourself, I know it.”

His nose crinkled and he swallowed hard. “And if it isn’t soon? If it isn’t ever?”

“I wouldn’t accept that,” you said firmly. “I’d lobby goddamn congress if I had to. I wouldn’t let anyone at the FBI take a single breath without reminding them that you’re in here and the person who put you here is still out there running free. Spencer Reid, you made a tenacious woman love you, for better or for worse.”

“God, I love you,” he said softly, sniffling as his eyes welled up with tears. “I love you, and you’re about the only thing keeping me sane right now.”

“I don’t want this place to change you, Spence,” you said, picking at your cuticles. “Just… remember that you have me to come home to, and a daughter on the way. You’re so smart, Spence, but sometimes it’s like you don’t care if you get hurt. _Please_ don’t get yourself hurt. For me and for Evie.”

He nodded and you let yourself relax a little. You kissed your fingertips and rested them just slightly over the partition, and, after a moment of processing, Spencer did the same thing. “I love you,” you reminded him. “And I know Evie does too. I can feel it.”

You thought he might say something about how Evelyn was incapable of feeling complex emotions like that in utero, or something about object permanence and the developmental stages of children. But he just smiled and nodded. “I know.”

Three days later, you felt about a million times more pregnant. Penelope had long since fallen asleep, snoring in an obnoxiously endearing way, snuggled up against your side. You were up, slowly making your way through the final pages of a parenting book that you had read, your lip bitten until it bled against your tongue. 

Maybe it was the conversation with Spencer, but you were convinced that you’d spotted the horribly named _bloody show_ in the evening. You hadn’t told Pen, partly because it was a very weird pregnancy symptom, but you were fucking terrified. _Days_ at the most, and, after you googled it, _hours_ some places said. 

So far, you hadn’t felt any contractions, and you still felt relatively normal, aside from the pounding of your heart beat. Anxiety clawed at your skin, raking down your arms until you had goosebumps and the shivers. In a way, you had convinced yourself that Spencer’s situation was incredibly temporary. That you would wake up and the BAU would have solved the case like it was nothing. That he’d be back and would coach you through the birth of your daughter. 

_God_ , he’d even taken a birthing class with you, even though you could tell he was uncomfortable and anxious the entire time. You spared him the experience of going to another one, and found a video on youtube, which you watched on the rug of the living room and got through with plenty of giggles and gentle kisses. 

You knew that you wanted, or rather, _needed_ Penelope in the room with you, but a part of you was scared that you wouldn’t have the strength to get through it without him. You couldn’t focus on the book after that, and placed it onto the nightstand with a huff. It took a decent amount of effort to twist and wriggle beneath the covers, hugging the comfortable pregnancy pillow that Penelope _swore_ she was going to steal after Evie had been born. 

It was impossible to get a decent night’s rest. Not with your mind on Spencer, or with the general discomfort of being at full term with a human inside of you. You found yourself staring at the light projected against the wall, how it moved across the room when cars passed outside. Eventually, your eyes grew heavy, and you fell asleep without even having to try. 

You weren’t sure what time you went to bed, but you woke with a start at nine in the morning, feeling like you hadn’t got any rest at all. You winced as you sat up, furrowing your brows at the slight twinge in your stomach, the slightest cramp as you pushed yourself onto your elbows. 

_Not yet_. It was a statement, a manifestation at the least. You just needed Evie to hold out a little longer. A few days, maybe a week. It was selfish, but given that you were about to sacrifice so much for her for the rest of your life, you figured she might owe you a little leeway now. 

Spencer’s face was in shades of yellow and blue when you next saw him, facing each other with that measly partition separating you. It wasn’t the look of a battered Spence after a case. Someone had beaten him. Someone had _hurt_ him badly.

All you wanted was to take his face in your hands, to press gentle kisses to each bruise, and hold him in your arms, just for a little while. He must have seen the worry, because he gestured for you to sit with a gentle smile. “I’m okay,” he insisted. “ _Please_ , (Y/N), it’s alright. I’m okay.”

Worry knotted your guts, but you sat down nonetheless, the words you had rehearsed in the car absent on your tongue. You couldn’t help it. You reached forward just as he sat, brushing your fingers over the bruise on his cheekbone. 

“ _No touching.”_ The firm, angry reminder made your heart hammer as you sat back. 

You could still feel the warmth and texture of his skin on your fingers like a ghost. He looked hollow, like a damaged shell washed ashore, beaten into pieces by the relentless tide. 

“Who did this to you?” You asked, your voice rough despite how weakly it wavered. You didn’t want to cry, but, _god_ , you couldn’t really help the urge. “ _Why_ aren’t you in protective custody, Spence? Tell me what I can do to fix this, because I feel like my hands are tied.”

 _Oof_. You felt Evie move within you in some weird way that made your heart stutter. An odd, tugging sensation as you felt your stress spiking at the sight of Spence. 

“Fiona says there’s not anything she can really do,” Spencer said quietly. “Besides, they beat up on me because of JJ, and the team… and _you_.” His last addition was barely a whisper, a guilty confession. A glimpse of the angry man who he was fighting to keep buried. 

But he deserved to be a little angry. Pushing it all in would just poison the good that was inside. “I’m sorry,” you said softly.

“You’re a weakness,” he admitted. “My proudest one, actually. But weaknesses can be exploited. Do you know how scary it is to know that with one wrong move in here and someone out there could hurt you or Evie?”

“There are no wrong moves or right moves, Spence,” you said with a weak smile. “All you need to do is make decisions that keep _you_ safe. I can take care of myself, Spence, I promise.”

He nodded, guilt lacing his features at the sight of you. “I want to stay the same for you,” he said. His hands shook as he scratched at the nape of his neck. “I want to be the version of myself that you love, the me that I need to be for Evelyn, but I don’t know if I’ll survive in here like that.”

A groan escaped you as the feeling returned, an intense cramping sensation that resonated into your lower back. A furrow formed between your brows, and you gripped the partition with white knuckles. 

“Are you okay?” Spencer asked suddenly, standing up as anxiety flooded his veins. 

“I’ve just been having some Braxton-Hicks contractions today,” you assured him through gritted teeth, only half-believing what you had said. “I just need to change positions.”

But despite all of the positions you tried to get your body into, you couldn’t get remotely comfortable until it went away on its own. You finally felt like you could breathe, but you felt warm all over. 

“(Y/N)... are you maybe in labor?” He asked gently, trying his best to keep his voice steady. Your brow furrowed and you insistently shook your head. 

“No,” you said. Your voice was firm, like if you said it confidently enough it would make it true. “No, I’m not in labor. I can’t be, because my water hasn’t broken, and I forgot the hospital bag at home, and there’s so much that isn't ready. They’re just braxton-hicks.”

Denial, you knew, was a waste of time. You both knew that water didn’t have to break spontaneously, and that contractions that didn’t resolve with change in positions were labor contractions. Every moment spent pretending that anything else was going on, was a waste of time. 

“(Y/N), you’re in labor, which means you need to start timing your contractions.” He sat forward, trying not to give away the urgency, most likely out of fear that you’d be escorted out (which, to be fair, might be the best thing that could happen) and he wouldn’t see you for the next few weeks after the baby was born. “It’s been a minute and twenty-four seconds since it ended, can you keep counting for me?”

You nodded, tears spilling down your cheeks as you faced reality. You would have to leave Spencer here, have your baby without him, and raise that baby alone. And you couldn’t help but wonder, if you knew that _this_ is where you would have ended up, would you have even done this with Spencer in the first place?

 _Forty. Forty One. Forty two. Forty three. Forty four._ “When was your last contraction?”

“Ten minutes ago,” you said.

“Okay, good, you’re still in early labor, but you’re in a transitional phase, so they’re going to start coming with more frequency. You’re going to have to leave and have Penelope get you to a hospital. Does Emily still have a key to your place?” You nodded again. “Good. You’ll need to call her to get the hospital bag and meet you up there once you’re in the car.”

“I don’t want to leave you.” You could see tears well up in his eyes at the sound of your watery voice. As soon as he blinked, a tear slipped down his cheek. “I could stay. After a certain point I would have to deliver her here. It would be uncomfortable but I wouldn’t care as long as you were close by.”

“It wouldn’t matter, because I wouldn’t get to be with you anyway.” He was unwavering, and you knew it was stupid to have even _dreamed_ that somehow you could find a way around it, but you wanted it nonetheless. “I love you, and I wish things were different, but you have to think of Evie right now.”

“Okay,” you said softly. “Just let me stay a little longer. I just… I want to be with you, today of all days. _Please_ , Spence.” He shook his head and your tears fell hard down your cheeks, pooling beneath your chin. “I need you with me. I don’t think I can do this without you. Just let me stay. _Please_. I don’t care if you’re not beside me, I just need you near.”

He shouldn’t have done it, but he reached forward, holding your face in his hands. They were warm, calloused, and everything you’d been wishing you could feel for weeks. He pressed his lips to yours and the world melted away. 

Faintly, you could hear the sounds of the guards, the warnings of _No touching_ dying on their lips as they realized the rules fell on the willfully ignorant. His lips moved against yours, and you let your hands move to his face, into his hair, around his neck. You were crying and your lips tasted of saline. Spencer was pulled back and held in place by two burly men. 

He mouthed a quick, _I love you_ , before turning back to the guards. “She’s nine months pregnant and is in labor as we speak. Someone needs to escort her out.”

You watched him as he was walked away, his eyes on yours the entire time, eyes shining with unshed tears. Your tears were unhindered and slipped freely down your heated cheeks, your fingers brushing the place where his lips just were. He smiled just before he was taken through the door, and you _knew_. 

He had done it on purpose. He risked punishment just to make _sure_ you got out and didn’t do anything stupid like try to stay. You were walked out by a tall man whose face you didn’t even see. You just kept looking back, feeling like Orpheus leaving the underworld with Eurydice far behind. 

Despite being in literal agony from the waist down, you felt numb, like your thoughts were all clouded and blank. Tears slipped down your cheeks whenever a contraction got a little too intense, or whenever you thought of Spencer, which was most of the time since you’d arrived a few hours ago. But Penelope was there to offer you words of encouragement and to wipe away your tears. And Luke was there too, offering you ice chips or popsicles whenever you complained about being hungry. 

“You’re going to dehydrate,” Penelope said as firmly as she could manage while taking in the pitiful sight of you in labor and bawling your eyes out. On cue, Luke offered ice chips, which you accepted with a weak pout. 

To be fair, the ice chips were quite nice. Although you decided rather definitively that as soon as the baby was _out_ you would send someone to grab you the most disgustingly sweet ice cream they could find, because you figured that you deserved it.

You gritted your teeth as another contraction reared its head. They were getting fucking _intense_ , and you lamented the fact that no matter how much you complained and groaned like girls did in the movies, you just had to deal with it. 

“Do you think the nurse will let you have the medicine yet?” Penelope asked, her brow furrowed with concern as sweat beaded on your brow. 

“I could’ve had it hours ago. I don’t want it,” you said firmly, your voice sounding distant and vaguely inhuman to your ears. “I can do this without the drugs.” Luke made a face and you shook your head, relaxing into the pillows as the contraction subsided. “I’m not a fucking pussy. I can _do_ this.”

Honestly, you knew you _could_ do it, but you weren’t sure if you _wanted_ to. Then you remembered Spencer, and that he was far away and was so _hurt_ and you didn’t know what was happening to him and it felt like some sort of penance that you had to pay. You felt compelled to go through it, like shared pain might connect you even with metal bars and fences and miles between you. 

You glanced over at the door, where a nurse stood outside whispering to a coworker. Anxiety knotted your stomach as she approached, holding her clipboard tight against her chest. “How are you feeling, (Y/N)?” You glanced down at her name tag and read her name, _Anna_ before you gave an unconvincing thumbs up, and she laughed lightly. “Dr. Lee isn’t going to be able to do any more deliveries today,” Anna explained. “In the middle of her commute she got a call that her son has been in an accident, and that she’ll have to fly into West Virginia to be with him.”

You looked over at Penelope, and then Luke, panic lacing your veins and making them run cold. “But I’ve been with Dr. Lee the entire pregnancy. My entire adult _life_.”

“Dr. Perry is an excellent obstetrician,” Anna assured. “She’ll be happy to meet with you and discuss any concerns.”

You shook your head as another contraction gripped you like a vice. All you could do was set your jaw and breathe through your nose as you tried to get yourself through it. “No need,” you managed. As soon as the contraction passed and you were able to catch your breath, you spoke in one single rushed sentence. “At this point I would let a fucking circus clown deliver my baby if it meant these contractions would stop.”

Penelope snorted, her lips quirking up in a smile which died as soon as you adjusted your death-grip on her hand.

“The contractions are getting closer together,” Luke said to the nurse, giving you a sidelong glance. “The one before that was only about four minutes ago. Isn’t she supposed to start pushing soon?”

As soon as the contraction had subsided, the nurse checked your dilation, eyes going wide as she glanced back at you. “Your boyfriend over here is doing a great job of paying attention. You’re just about fully dilated, (Y/N),” she explained. “Are you ready to meet your baby?” You nodded weakly, feeling the telltale weight of tears on your lash line. “I’ll go get Dr. Perry.”

“Heh,” Luke said after a minute of quiet, grinning over at Penelope. “Am I boyfriend material?”

Penelope rolled her eyes, just about to fire off some snappy retort when you glared at the both of them. “I have no epidural, I’m about to push an infant out of my body. For the next few minutes you can banter and flirt and say whatever your heart's desire, but _as_ _soon_ as the doctor walks in, I need you both to grab my hand, tell me when to breathe and push, and save your banter for after I’ve delivered my baby.”

Seven minutes later, the woman you presumed to be Dr. Perry walked in, they, did. Penelope was the first one to grab your hand, her pristine, pink nails and soft skin in direct contrast to your bitten, clammy hands. Luke’s grasp was comforting and firm, and his other hand gripped your shoulder encouragingly the way coaches do in sports movies. 

It was weird how your complaints with them and the irritability seemed to melt away as Dr. Perry described what was going to come next. You were never particularly close with Luke before all of this. But he’d been so happy to step in and help when Spencer got into trouble and would do anything to help out. He was here because Spencer couldn’t be, and because he said he didn’t think Penelope could take very much hand squeezing when things started getting tough. And _Penelope_ … you were basically convinced she’s an angel, but you’d been suspicious of that for a while. 

“Okay, we’re just going to readjust you a bit while we’re waiting for your next contraction,” Dr. Perry said, nodding for the nurses to adjust the placement of your feet so your knees were bent. “Listen to me, _trust me_. We’re going to get through this and you’re going to have a baby girl to hold before you know it.”

You nodded, sweat dripping from your forehead and down the back of your neck. Only three minutes had passed since your last contraction, and the exertion was killing you. You were fairly certain that you might sleep for weeks after this was all done. Penelope dabbed at your forehead with a cloth and you smiled gratefully up at her, hoping she didn’t see the utter fear in your eyes.

“Next time you feel a contraction, I want you to push until the peak, alright?” Dr. Perry said, giving an encouraging smile. You nodded, gripping your friends’ hands tight as you felt the contraction building. 

You thought you heard the cracking of bones beneath your fingers, but that could’ve been the clash of teeth ringing in your ears as you clenched your jaw tight. You pushed with all of the strength you had in yourself, ears ringing as the rest of the world faded into background noise. As soon as you felt it reach the peak, you let yourself rest, collapsing against the pillows as Penelope offered words of encouragement. 

“You’re making this look so easy my love,” she said, wiping the sweat from your hairline. “Keep breathing like you showed me.” You closed your eyes, breathing deeply so your chest rose and fell steadily. 

It went on and on, like Sisyphus pushing the boulder up the hill and starting over and over for eternity. Tears slipped down your cheeks, fueled by exhaustion, frustration, discomfort. You regretted denying the epidural, but it was too late then. You didn’t even know how long you’d been pushing, but you had long since left crescent shaped nail marks in Luke’s palm that he insisted didn’t hurt. Penelope had tapped out after push number three. 

“Did you…” you trailed off, furrowing your brow at the petering out of a particularly rough contraction. “Did you know that women give birth on their backs with their legs up because Louis XIV wanted to see his mistress deliver the baby without any hindrance to his view? It’s easier for women to deliver while sitting or squatting” 

“That’s creepy,” Luke said with a grimace. “How did you know that?”

A wobbly frown pulled at your lips. “Spencer told me when we were reading all of the stupid parenting books.” You grabbed Penelope’s hand, not because you needed to, but because it was comforting to have her beside you. “Pen, I don’t think I can do this.”

“But you’re doing so good,” she assured, crouching down to your level. You could see the pride in her eyes, she was so unbelievably happy to be here with you. You needed to see it through for her. 

Another contraction started, and you heard Anna and Dr. Perry encouraging you to push, but you just held your breath, shaking your head as you fought your way through the contraction. “I can’t,” you cried. “I can’t. I can’t.” You weren’t sure what you were admitting to, what was so impossible. Everything, maybe. At the moment, that seemed correct. 

The contraction passed and Dr. Perry pulled down her mask. “(Y/N), you don’t get to be selfish anymore.” Her voice was so firm and icy that you felt your heart stutter in your chest. “Your baby is on her way, and you have to work with us to get her here. I don’t need to know what’s going on, I’m sure it’s difficult, but you’re facing childbirth with no drugs and an iron will. If you can face this today, you can face everything else tomorrow. _Use_ everything you’re feeling right now.”

You swallowed, nodding as you readjusted your grip on the handles of the bed. “You’re so close, (Y/N), we’re almost there, alright? Keep pushing for me.” Just like that, she pulled her mask up again and it was like your moment of doubt hadn’t even happened. 

And she was right. There was so much _shit_ in your life that you didn’t even realize was weighing on you. You thought it was easy to push everything back, and back, and back until you could focus on everything else, but you were wrong. There was not a lot you could change about your situation, but you could change how you used your anger. 

Because you were fucking _furious_ that Spencer had left all those weeks again, and every time before it while you were alone, clueless and worried. And you were angry that he was framed, and even more so that he was in prison being _hurt_ and there was absolutely nothing you could do to help. You were angry that he couldn’t be here, and angry that the FBI had turned their backs on him, and angry that he kept everything from you and both of you ended up in the situations you were in. 

So you used it. Every push was powered by the simmering anger that had taken up residence in your heart, and you could feel the anger leaving you each time you collapsed against the pillows, breathing it out in shaky pants. By the time you’d run out of things to be angry about, you were nearly done. You could feel it in your bones, in every fibre of your being. 

There was nothing left to be angry about, so you kept going because you loved Spencer. Because you loved Evie. And because you loved your little family, no matter how rocky of a start it had gotten off to. Your second wind was rapidly nearing its end, so you gave one last good push and collapsed, not knowing where your tears ended and sweat began. 

It was quiet, and your ears were ringing, but then a tiny wail split through the air and it was like every single cell in your body woke right back up out of the fog. A shaky laugh escaped you as you heard it, glancing over at Penelope, who was crying and beaming as she looked back and forth between the baby and you. 

“Oh my god, (Y/N), you did it,” she said, sniffling as you tugged the neckline of your gown down just slightly so Evie could lay against your chest. 

There was a foreign lightness in your chest that you could only really describe as an overwhelming sense of love, even though that didn’t exactly sound right either. You didn’t care that she was still covered in weird goo or that the sounds of her soft cries were basically splitting everyone’s eardrums. All that mattered was that she was _here_ , in your arms, and that everything from the past year had been worth it. 

“Will you go tell them?” You asked Penelope and Luke, unable to keep the smile off of your face. “Tell them that Evelyn Reid can’t wait to meet all of her aunts and uncles.”

—— 

You were exhausted. The lights in the room had long since turned off, but you were enamored by the sight of _your baby_ lying asleep in a little plastic crib beside you. A knock sounded at the door and you sat up, smiling at the sight of Dr. Perry. 

“I’m glad you’re still here,” you said quietly, combatting all of the soreness in your lower half that begged you not to move. “I wanted to thank you. I don’t think I could’ve done it without what you said.”

She brushed it off, a warm smile on her lips. “You could’ve done it easily. I just said what you already knew.”

You nodded reaching for her hand. “Spencer-- Evie’s dad-- has two middle names. We initially agreed on Evelyn Alexandria… but there’s always space for one more.” You trailed off, meeting her eyes. “I’d like to name my daughter after you for helping me get through one of the hardest days of my life… but I can’t exactly name my daughter _doctor_.”

“Catherine,” she said, a wide smile on her lips. “My name is Catherine.”

_Spencer,_

_It’s been one week home with Evelyn, and I’m trying to get a hold on things. I don’t think I’ve gotten proper sleep since before I went into labor, and I’ve started a steady diet of soda and saltines to keep me running throughout the day._

_Penelope (being the loving godmother she is) has been staying with me when she can, and sometimes when I’m lucky Luke joins in and they both take turns feeding and watching Evie while I attempt a nap. Those days I actually do eat decent food, I promise! I’m sure JJ, Em, Rossi, and Tara have shown you all the pictures they have, but I’m still in awe of how much of you I see in her._

_Sometimes she’ll make a face and I see a dimple (your dimple!) and I fall in love with her all over again. I think she has your mouth, and maybe your nose, but then again you’re the one who says all babies look the same so I’ll leave it up to you to decide._

_Maybe it’s the competitive streak in me, but I think our baby is definitely the cutest kid to come out of the BAU… ever. I’m stuffing like, as many pictures of her as I can into this envelope because I know you’ll want some to hold onto. I literally can’t stop taking pictures of her cute little face, and I can’t wait to show you all of them soon._

_Right now she’s not really doing much of anything except crying, eating, and sleeping, but as soon as she does start doing weird and cute things, I’ll make sure to tell you about all of them, and hopefully soon you’ll be here to see them yourself. I’ll try to keep writing to you when I can, but things are hectic._

_All of my love,_

_(Y/N)_

You woke, as you usually did, to the sound of wailing over the baby monitor. With a groan, you stood, stretching lazily as you padded through your dark bedroom. As soon as you opened the door into the living room, you were greeted by bright light that you squinted against and were again made grateful for JJ’s gift of blackout curtains for the bedroom. 

“I hear you, I hear you,” you said softly, hurrying into the bedroom beside the kitchen. As soon as you opened the door, her wailing grew louder, so you took her into your arms and bounced her gently, huffing as you made your way towards the light switch. “Did you sleep well, sweet pea?” You placed her gently on the changing table, and cooed gently as you changed her. 

The light from the window filtered in, casting her in a warm glow as she slowly calmed herself down. _Not having object permanence must really suck_. You buttoned her onesie and took her back into your arms, making your way towards the kitchen.

“I bet you’re hungry, hm?” You said softly. “Well, fortunately for you, I can help with that.” Feeding her wasn’t too bad, except for when you burped her and she spit up onto your shirt, which was more likely than not already covered in other various stains. Certainly a low point. You turned on the TV and held her in your arms, stomach growling as you thought back to your meager breakfast of a drinkable yogurt.

“Hey, I have an idea,” you said gently, heading for the door as soon as you got bored enough of daytime TV. “Let’s go visit your grandma, yeah?”

Evie was more than used to the trip across the hall. She liked her dad’s apartment-- the dark, the cozy atmosphere. And she liked when you wore his sweaters because it smelled like her bed, which always contained at least _one_ of his shirts. You didn’t know if it would help when he finally got to meet her, but you really hoped it did. 

“Hi Cassie,” you said, blowing a piece of fallen hair out of your face as she let you in the apartment. “How’s Diana?”

“It’s a good day,” she affirmed, leaning down to get a good look at Evie. She smiled up at you fondly. “She’s absolutely beautiful. You know Diana loves all of the pictures you’ve given her.”

You nodded, glancing over at the coffee table where all of the pictures were laid out. “I’m glad,” you said, watching as Evie fisted her hands into the fabric of the sweater. “I was just getting a bit restless in my place, I thought I’d let Diana see her if you think that would be okay.”

Cassie nodded and you let yourself settle on the couch, occupying yourself with cooing and marveling at your daughter. She was gazing up at you, staring in a way that made you feel like the most important person in the entire world. You leaned down to press a little kiss on her nose and giggled at the way she scrunched up her face. 

“Oh wow, look at her.” You looked up at Diana, who seemed enviously comfortable in her house robe. You shifted further down the couch to accommodate her and she settled beside you, poking at Evie’s wiggling feet. “Look at those little socks!”

You grinned, looking at the little yellow and green mismatched socks on her feet. One had a giraffe on it, while the other was scalloped around the edges. And they were both so unbelievably _tiny_ that your heart hurt looking at them. Evie kicked instinctively as Diana fawned over her, and you gave her a small smile before you glanced over at Cassie, who nodded with approval. 

“Would you like to hold her?” You asked. She nodded and you carefully placed Evie into her arms. “You know, the first few days I was terrified to let anyone else around her.”

“I was the same when Spencer was born,” she mused, wrinkling her nose when Evie grasped onto her fingertip. 

“Were you?”

“Oh, I would hardly let anyone near him,” she said with a laugh. She paused, gazing down at her granddaughter for a long moment, a pensive look on her face. “Sometimes I wonder if he’ll ever settle down and start a family. I think he’s always wanted to, but work keeps him so busy.”

A frown turned your lips, realizing that she’d forgotten who you and Evelyn were since the last time you had seen her but you nodded anyway. “Yeah,” you said softly. “At a certain point, I think you just… have to decide that it’s what you want.”

Diana nodded, easing Evelyn back into your arms. You cradled her against your chest as she grew sleepy. The woman beside you watched with a fond gaze as the baby started drowsing against your chest, her fingers balled up in tiny fists. 

“She reminds me of Spencer at that age,” she mused, reaching out to rub Evelyn’s back in small circles. You raised a brow, smiling at the thought. “He was so well behaved. Hardly ever cried, too. His favorite thing was laying in my arms while I read to him. She looks like him too, in a way.”

You nodded, pressing your lips to the crown of your daughter’s head. “Sometimes I cry when I put her into the crib and have to sneak out and shut the door,” you admitted. “It’s hard, having a baby inside of you for nine months and suddenly having to be used to being alone again.” You gave a short laugh and Evie made a noise of discontent against you. “I just wish I could be with her every second, you know?”

“Is the father not around?” Diana asked.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as you gave a slight shake of your head. “Oh, it isn’t his fault,” you insisted. “He’d give anything to be with her, I know that. Things are just… not good for him right now.”

Diana looked as though she wanted to say more, but maybe she could see the anguish in your expression and she _chose_ to hold back. Instead, she put her hand on your shoulder comfortingly and gave a small squeeze. “ _Well_ , you know if you’re just taking care of her alone all the time you can always come over here. Cassie and I will keep you company, won’t we Cassie?”

The other woman gave a kind smile, sharing a knowing look with you. Neither of you had any way of knowing if Diana would be able to remember that offer the next time you wanted to pop over, or if she’d be having a good enough day to make true on that promise. Either way, you thanked her and made a comment about needing to go have lunch, which was true. When you were back in your apartment, you put Evie back into her crib while you wrote a letter to Spencer so he’d know that his mother had gotten to see the baby. It wasn’t much, but it felt like all you could do. 

It was a month before you were able to see Spence again, partly because you were so busy and exhausted that it was hard to leave the house most of the time, but also because there was Evie, and the thought of being away from her made you nauseous most of the time. 

But you had a neighbor who was _so_ willing to help out and had practically pushed you out the door, after helping you pick what you would wear. So you were in your car for what felt like the first time in a lifetime, wearing real, genuine clothes for what was definitely the first time since you’d had Evie. 

“Wow.” You looked up to see Spencer standing in front of you, gazing at you with starry eyes. He sat quickly, beaming over at you as you hurried to take in the sight of him.

_Any new cuts? Bruises? Any sign that he’s in any danger or pain?_

“I’ve missed you _so much_ , Spencer,” you said, trying to fight the urge to cry, which you’d done a pretty good job of on the way there. “You got my letters, right? And all of the pictures?” He nodded and you sighed in relief. “ _Good_. I know I write a lot, and I’m always worried my letters are boring, or you wish I’d talk about something else.”

“No, I love your letters,” he insisted. “I keep the pictures under my pillow. I’d put them on my wall, but I don’t really know how, and I’m afraid someone might take them if I had them up.” 

It went quiet, and you felt a stirring sense of guilt in your stomach. What exactly was there to say? You didn’t want to bore him with the trivialities of your day, the boring bits of raising a newborn, but you didn’t have much of anything else to talk about. You felt helpless sitting there, and awful that you had lost the ability to talk with Spencer for hours and hours like you would never run out of things to say.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asked finally, and you were grateful that he had been the one to guide the conversation. “Emotionally, I guess. I feel like it’s a dumb question, but--”

“No, it’s not a dumb question, Spence,” you said with a half-smile. “I’ve… been adjusting. It’s really hard sometimes, especially without you. I cry a lot, which is stupid because it just makes me more tired.” You paused and toyed with your necklace. “But then I’ll hold her, or she’ll look up at me, and it’s like everything is how it’s supposed to be. I know that even though you’re in here, I have a piece of you right there with me too.” A smile quirked your lips as you glanced over at you. “She loves you so much, you know. You’re one of the few things that can calm her down when she’s crying, except like… my boobs.”

He chuckled under his breath, a line drawn between his brows. “How do _I_ calm her down?”

You grinned, feeling heat creep up your cheeks. “I dunno. One day she was just… wailing. And she’d already eaten, been changed, and didn’t want to nap, so I just sat her in a rocking chair and turned on that youtube video from that time you were asked to give a lecture on paraphilias.”

He groans, covering his face in his hands. “So the first words my daughter ever heard me say were from a speech about fetishes?” He asked, his voice muffled by his hands. 

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “ _No_. She heard a video of you talking to her first,” you said softly. “I used to record us talking to her at night, but mostly I would record you. I thought she might want to hear it some day. She’ll be laying on my chest on the floor and I’ll play the videos and she’ll just start cooing and kicking her little legs. She recognizes your voice.”

You hear him sniffle, and it’s then that you realize he’s crying. Your heart sinks and you try to find some way to apologize. All you can say is, _I’m so sorry_ , over and over while he frantically tries to wipe his tears away. 

He squeezes his eyes shut finally, taking a deep breath before looking back at you sheepishly. “I’m sorry,” he said with a wobbly voice. “It’s just that I’ve never met her and I miss her _so much_. You said that having her is like having a part of me with you, but being away from her feels like I have a part of me missing.”

“You’re going to be with her again soon, Spencer, I promise,” you said, but you knew it was a weak assurance. “I have an idea, actually.” You opened your recording app on your phone and pressed the record button. “Tell her everything you want to tell her right now. She’ll know it’s you.”

He made a face, glancing between the two men on either side of him. It wasn’t safe to show weakness, and he had made it abundantly clear that you and your daughter were exactly that. Still, he cleared his throat and sat closer to your phone, his voice low. 

“Hi Evie, it’s your dad.” Tears brimmed in both of your eyes, but you just blinked them away and let him keep going. “I spend basically every waking moment thinking about you, hoping you’re feeling safe and cared for. I wish more than anything that I could be there with you. That I could be the one waking up at three in the morning to give you a bottle and talk you back to sleep, or that I could start introducing you to my favorite books early before you know what I’m saying and your mom tells me to stop annoying you.” A giggle escapes you, and it's at that moment that you let a tear fall. “Evelyn Reid, you’ve got your dad wrapped around your little finger and you’ve never even met him yet. I love you so much sweet pea.” He paused, scratching at the back of his neck. “Was that good?”

You nodded, smiling ear to ear. “Spencer, that was perfect.”

—— 

You got back to the apartment to find Evie asleep on her babysitter’s chest as some soap opera played on screen. 

“Hey,” you said softly, drawing her attention from the screen. “Is that good?”

She smiled a pretty, easy smile that you were incredibly envious of, nodding gently so as not to wake up Evelyn. You reached into her arms to take Evelyn, careful not to disturb her as you padded your way into her room and placed her down into the crib. When you returned, you found the girl still on the couch, looking at you expectantly. 

“Oh, right, I owe you for watching her,” you said with a lighthearted laugh. “How much do you want? I’ve never actually hired a babysitter before. I’ve also never _been_ a babysitter before so you’re absolutely in the perfect position to screw me out of my money.”

She brushed it off, patting the couch beside her. You raised a brow, but joined her, kicking off your shoes into a haphazard pile on the floor. “So, do you want the elevator pitch?” When you furrowed your brows she laughed brightly and nudged you. “The elevator pitch… like, do you want to hear how qualified I am to serve as a full time nanny for Evelyn?”

“Oh… I don’t have enough money right now to afford that,” you said sheepishly. “I’m sure you’ve probably heard my sob story from the neighbors.”

“About Dr. Reid?” She asked, when you nodded she placed her hand on top of yours. “I have heard, and I want you to know how sorry I am. My mom…” She glanced down at her lap, a frown turning her lips. “My dad wasn’t around and my mom did her best to raise me on her own, never wanting to accept help. But she could’ve used the help. Let me be here for Evelyn and for you.” Her smile returned to her lips as she winked. “Free of charge. Just neighbors helping neighbors.”

“And your elevator pitch?” You asked, raising a brow. 

She cleared her throat, extending her hand for you to shake. With a roll of your eyes, you took it, a smile spreading across your lips. “Hi, I’m Carol Atkins,” she introduced with a flourish. “I have a bachelor’s degree in early childhood development, and I’ve nannied for kids since high school. I’m CPR certified, and I’m also an excellent cook.”

 _Jesus_ , how could you say no to that? You were hardly keeping afloat, trying to keep yourself _and_ Evie healthy and well taken care of. And most of the lacking was on your own part. A little help wouldn’t hurt, not at all. “Say no more,” you replied with a grin. “You’re hired, and I promise I _will_ pay you, but just not as much as you’re probably used to.”

“Don’t worry about how much you can spare,” she said with another one of her pretty, effortless smiles. “The experience will be payment enough.”

_Spencer,_

_Things are finally feeling normal. I don’t know if it’s just life settling around me, or me adjusting to the way things are now. Either way, I finally feel like I’m comfortable being a mom to Evelyn._

_Last time I visited your mother with the baby she remembered the two of us, which was nice to see. It’s still hit or miss on whether she knows that Evie is yours every time we go. She’ll constantly point out things that Evie does that remind her of you. Basically, what I’ve learned is that you really liked to sleep and that you constantly spit up all over her. When she does remember who I am in the context of my relationship with you, I feel guilty because I can tell it makes her sad that you’re not there._

_Updates: Our neighbor Carol is helping me with Evie so much! She’s experienced, so nice, and gets along so well with our little girl. She cares so much about her already, and she’s hardly charging me anything. I’d really be lost without her, so I guess I’m lucky to have met her in the middle of laundering all of Evelyn’s onesies._

_Also… Evie is smiling now! I almost cried when I saw her do it the first time, because she’s smiled before but it’s so different when she’s actually smiling at you. I tried to take a good picture, but it’s kind of blurry. I printed it anyway, and I hope you can actually tell what she’s doing. Penelope helped me give her her first bath in the baby tub, which was probably the cutest thing either of us have ever seen._

_I don’t want to bore you, and I feel a little guilty writing out all of the thing that I see every day but you’re missing. If you want me to shut up and just send pictures, you know I’ll do that too. I’ll see you soon, Spence._

_All my love,_

_(Y/N)_

It was a Friday night, which really should have been cause for celebration, but your life had fallen into a sort of monotony that you were beginning to be exhausted from. Carol had been helping as your nanny for two months, and as May began, you were gearing up to instruct online at the university in the summer so you didn’t grow increasingly stagnant in your life.

Carol had stepped away briefly to peek her head into Evie’s room, giving a thumbs up when she saw the baby sleeping soundly. You slipped past her and into the kitchen, scrounging for the candy you’d hidden away in the cupboard for particularly boring nights.

It felt weird to actually have a friend who wasn’t a former or current coworker, Or really anyone related to work at all, if you were being honest. Carol reached into the fridge and retrieved a cold bottle of sparkling water before jumping onto the counter 

“So,” you said as you dug into your cabinets. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Yeah,” she said, uncharacteristically bashful. “Yeah I am.” You turned and raised a brow, cajoling her until she sighed. “It’s kind of… new, I guess, but she understands me.”

You grinned when your fingers closed around two chocolate bars. You turned, offering her one. “I hope you’re happy,” you said as you unwrapped your own. She mirrored your actions, looking down at the counter. “You’ve already done so much for Evie and I. You deserve good things in your life too.”

Carol made a face that said, _you don’t even know the half of it_ , and took a quick bite. “What about Spencer?” She asked, her gaze strangely cold and detached. “How’s he doing?”

You bristled a bit, but tried your best to brush off the strange feeling, the oddity of her expression. “Oh, um…” You shrugged, picking at your sleeves. “I guess he’s doing as good as we can expect. He misses Evie. Misses me. I know he’s bored, but I can’t do anything.”

“Do they know he’s a fed? The other prisoners, I mean.”

You furrowed your brows, glancing over at her. “How do you know that?”

She shrugged, a confused grin on her lips as she glanced at you. “I heard the neighbors talking about it when he got booked. Why?”

You shook your head, brushing it off. Another weird feeling. “Um, I don’t know. He won’t really tell me anything that’s going on. I think he’s scared I’ll go into a catatonic state or something.”

Carol snorted, amusement playing on her features. She was always like that. So… detached, you supposed. She was so good at being happy, but you could see so many cracks in her exterior that it terrified you a little. You hadn’t been a profiler in a while, but you could see something… hidden depths.

“You know, it can get bad for feds in prison,” she noted plainly. “If he isn’t careful, he might leave Evie without a father.” You swallowed hard, your hands clammy from where your fists were clenched. “I mean, that’s what they show on TV.”

“Yeah,” you mused, shaking your head. “Um, I think I’ll get to bed while Evie’s still asleep. Do you need me to see you out?” 

She shook her head, holding up the shiny brass key on her keyring with a saccharine smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll lock up.”

You watched her go, listened to the lock _click_ behind her. But as soon as her footsteps receded, you bolted the door, just for a moment. 

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, undoing the bolt with a sigh. “You’re so fucking paranoid, (Y/N).” You turned off the lights on the way to your room, and got ready for bed. An hour after you laid down, Evie woke back up. 

—— 

“Is everything alright?” Spencer asked, a furrow between his brows. “You’re distant.”

You gave an apologetic half-smile and shook your head. “Yeah, sorry, Spence. I just… I dunno last night the nanny said some weird stuff that kind of caught me off guard.”

“How so?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair absentmindedly. “Asking if…” You dropped your voice to a whisper. “If people here knew you were a fed. Saying that you’d need to be careful or Evie wouldn’t have a dad anymore.” You cleared your throat and sat back casually. “Just… really weird stuff.”

Spencer’s brows furrowed, watching you twist your ring around your finger as you thought. “What did you say her name was?”

“Carol. Carol Atkins,” you replied, a frown turning your lips. “She lives right down the hall. I met her about… a month after I had Evie. We’d never run into each other before, she just moved in.”

“Does she have a job?” He asked. 

“Um… I don’t know,” you replied with a frown. “She just helps me with Evie and I pay her a hundred a week. She won’t take anything more.”

Spencer took his lip between his teeth as he tried to keep from jumping to any hasty conclusions, or to keep from saying anything he might regret. 

But you knew exactly what he wanted to ask. _How could you let someone watch our daughter without looking more carefully into their background?_ But you were so _tired_ and so desperate for help that you just… took her word for everything. 

“(Y/N), you pay the same rent she does, don’t you?” You nodded. “I’ve paid that same rent. Do you think she could afford that on just $400 a month?” You shook your head and he sighed. “Show me her picture.”

You sighed, retrieving your phone, scrolling to find a picture of Carol and Evie. To your surprise, you didn’t find any as easily as you expected. In every picture you passed, her hair was falling into her face, or she was turned around doing something so you couldn’t see. You gave a frustrated sigh as you kept scrolling. “Um… I should probably have Garcia look into more about her, right?” You asked nervously. “I was scared to tell them that I have a nanny. I didn’t… I didn’t want them to think I couldn’t handle this.”

You scrolled frantically, your hands shaking as your anxiety spiked. This wasn’t _normal_ , you realized. You should have a picture of your nanny. Just one single picture that was _proof_ she was around, that she was who she said she was. “Spencer I can’t… I can’t find one,” you said weakly, tears brimming in your eyes. “Oh god, she’s with Evie right now.”

You felt your heart stutter as you finally saw the closest thing to a photo as you could get. It was still the back of her as she dressed Evie for the day, but in the reflection of the mirror you could clearly see her face. You turned the phone, showing Spencer. 

All of the color drained from his face suddenly. Without giving you a second to react, he took the phone from your hands and looked at the picture closely, zooming in, his grip on the phone so tight that his knuckles went white. “Spence…” You trailed off, knowing all too well that _something_ was incredibly wrong. “Spence, tell me what’s going on.” 

He handed the phone back across the partition subtly, glancing back at the clueless guards. Your hands shook as you pocketed the phone once more, your heart hammering so hard that you couldn’t hear what Spencer was saying. 

“(Y/N),” he said, but all you could see were his lips moving and the cacophonous thrumming in your ears. “ _(Y/N)_ , you need to listen.” You closed your eyes, taking a breath to center yourself before opening your eyes and nodding. “Go home like nothing is wrong. If she asks why you’ve been crying, tell her that I’ve been hurt very badly and that you’re scared I won’t make it. Get Evie, say you’re going to visit my mother, and go to the FBI Headquarters. No stopping.”

“Call Emily when you’re in the car, send her here.” His voice was firm, but not cool enough to betray how fucking worried he was. “You need to stay as calm as you can. Everything will be fine, I promise.”

You felt nauseous on the drive home, hands shaking, your entire body feeling a bit separate from your thoughts. It was like you were dreaming. Honestly, you wished you were dreaming, and that you’d wake up having imagined the entire scenario. 

“Emily, Spencer needs you,” you said over the phone after she’d picked up, your hands aching from how tightly you gripped the steering wheel. “Something is wrong, and he needs your help. And I need you to send someone to my apartment. Luke, JJ, Tara, Stephen, I don’t care. Just in case… Just in case something goes wrong.”

“(Y/N), what’s going on?” Emily asked, failing to keep the anxiety from her voice. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t have time to explain,” you said as you parked your car on the street, heart hammering as you looked up at the building. “Em, please hurry.”

Your hands shook as you pressed the button on the elevator, your pulse as inconsistent as the rackety machine itself as it lurched and shook on its way to your floor. _You needed to get Evelyn out of this death trap of an apartment_. And then you thought about what you’d said and you felt like vomiting. You paused in front of Spencer’s door before casting a backwards glance towards your own door. With a moment’s hesitation, you knocked and let yourself in with your key. 

“Cassie?” You called, shutting and locking the door behind you. The older woman appeared out of the bedroom, her brows furrowed with worry, and maybe a bit of annoyance. 

“(Y/N), it isn’t a good day,” she insisted, nodding towards the door. 

“No, it isn’t,” you said firmly. “I think Diana might be in trouble. As soon as I’m out of the door, I want you to take her to the FBI Headquarters at Quantico, please. I can explain more when you get there, I just need her and _you_ to stay safe.” She nodded and you gave her a quick nod before stepping back into the hall, shutting the door quietly behind you.

The apartment felt off when you stepped inside, almost as if the walls themselves could sense an intruder, could tell that something was wrong. “Carol?” You called, stepping into the living room casually, shrugging off your jacket, dropping your purse on the ground.

She stepped from Evie’s room with an easy smile, a smile that was now incredibly transparent, like the painted on grin of a porcelain doll. You swallowed, bringing your own to match. “How was the visit? You seem upset.”

“Oh,” you said, smile faltering. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“We’re friends, (Y/N),” she said, approaching you with careful steps. “You can trust me with anything.”

You swallowed, closing your eyes as you nodded. “Spencer is really hurt. They don’t know…” You wiped at the very real tears that had fallen from your eyes. “They don’t know if he’s going to make it. I’m really scared.”

She put a hand on your shoulder, leaning close with concern in her eyes. “Is that why you warned Cassie to leave the building with Diana?” Your heart jumped in your chest, and you tried to pull back but her grip on your shoulder got tighte. _Pretend everything is normal, pretend everything is normal and Evie will be safe_. “What about me, (Y/N), are you not worried about _my_ safety?”

Her nails dug in tighter, and more tears welled in your eyes as she pushed you down onto your knees, her friendly facade melted away. “I thought we were friends, (Y/N),” she said with a grin. “We know _so much_ about each other. Thank you, by the way, for making this so easy.”

Anger welled up inside of you, overwhelming helplessness and terror until there was none left. You turned your head and dug your teeth into her wrist until you could taste warm, metallic blood in your teeth and she yanked her hand away, giving you the chance to stand and tackle her onto the floor. She screamed as her head collided with the hardwood, disorienting her enough that you could wrap your fingers around her neck, spitting her blood onto her face. 

“You fucking bitch,” you growled, squeezing her throat with both of your hands, feeling her throat bobbing beneath your touch, almost feeling every gasp of air that left her. Her fingers clawed against the floor, her eyes bulging as her mouth gaped open and closed desperately. A grin spread on your lips at each futile squirm beneath you. You squeezed harder and harder without remorse. 

Black spots danced across your vision and the world swam. You could feel a dull sense of pain in the side of your head, then the back of your head, and suddenly the world went white above you. The vent, a fan. _The ceiling_. And Carol. Her dark locks framed your face, making everything go dark before--

 _Red_. Your head slammed against the hardwood, her nails dug into your shoulders and lifted you once more before slamming you back down. You cried out, steeling yourself for the next blow. Before it could come, you locked your legs around hers and twisted, pinning her beneath you once more with a guttural huff. 

You glanced to your right and found… a _lamp_? Red cascaded down the side of the base, and you realized she’d hit you with it just a few moments ago. Something hot ran down the side of your face, dripping down your chin. You were in bad shape, you knew it. You reached for the metal base, grasping it firmly before bringing it down on her head, relishing in the feeling of her going limp beneath you. 

You sat back on her thighs, watching her chest rise and fall unsteadily beneath you. She was unconscious, but she was alive. You wanted her dead, but _alive_ was what you needed. You wanted her to pay for everything.

As soon as you felt confident enough to stand, you realized that beyond the ringing in your ears, there was Evie. Upon opening the door you were greeted by her wails, and you rushed to bring her into your arms, glancing over at the carrier on the floor. You kneeled in front of it, buckling her in while she cried. The diaper bag was right beside it. You were good to go, everything would be fine, and you’d get to the team. Everything was--

“Saying goodbye?”

Carol was in the doorway, blood running from her wrist and down her fingers and from the cut on her forehead. There wasn’t a way out. There was nothing in here remotely dangerous enough to defend yourself with and yet, you were the only thing between her and Evelyn. 

You lunged at her, trying to put as much distance between her and the baby as possible, she was in better shape, and you played into her hands. She turned you around, pinning your hands with one head, grasping the back of your neck with another. She turned you towards Evelyn, and you could feel her smile against your ear. “Say bye-bye, Evie,” she cooed, so close it was deafeningly loud. Before you could react, she brought you down hard against the dresser, again, and again, and again, until everything was dark, still, and quiet.


	8. Cat and Mouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> your daughter has been abducted, spencer is in prison, and your entire life seems to be unravelling. it’s really just your luck that everything hinges on the whims of cat adams.

## chapter eight: cat and mouse

**summary: your daughter has been abducted, spencer is in prison, and your entire life seems to be unravelling. it’s really just your luck that everything hinges on the whims of cat adams.**

JJ knew the walk up to Spencer’s apartment like the back of her hand. She visited when she could after Spencer’s indictment to check on Diana and reassure her about Spencer’s safety, but before that she’d visited him as a friend, especially after Maeve. 

There was a certain stillness in the hallway, like the entire floor was holding their breath. She could feel the pinpoint gazes through the peepholes as she, Alvez, and Simmons walked down the hall, gun in hand. 

It felt strange to pass Spencer’s door. You had never been one to host parties for the BAU, instead, you would rent out VIP sections of bars or reserve tables at nice restaurants. You liked to keep things private, which was understandable. There were certain things that people weren’t willing to sacrifice for the job. Walker went to the door to check on Diana, but JJ and Alvez made the walk to your door. 

It was closed but unlocked. Unresponsive after a few knocks. Silent, despite the shouting at the door, the pounding of knuckles against the painted wood. JJ knew that would’ve woken a baby, and her blood ran cold as she pulled her gun, twisted the doorknob, and stepped inside the still, silent apartment. 

The first thing she noticed was the blood, as she did a sweep of the room. It splattered and dripped onto the floor messily, not enough to warn of a fatal wound, but enough for her to know that _something_ had occurred. She nodded for Luke to check your bedroom as she stepped past the closed spare bedroom door to peek into the kitchen. It too was empty, and seemingly untouched by the violence that had occurred in the living room. 

“Clear,” Luke called across the flat, joining Jennifer in the living room. Her eyes went to the baby’s room, and she steeled herself for whatever would be inside. _God_ , she didn’t want anything else to happen to Spence. She wanted nothing more than to believe that you and Evelyn had gotten out and away, but your car was still parked downstairs, and she couldn’t let herself become a victim to blind optimism.

The door hit your foot as she nudged it open, bouncing it back her way. You were on the floor, blood caked in your hair and was half-dried on your forehead, more was dripping from the corner of your mouth. JJ swallowed down every terrifying thought in her head and nodded for Luke to check your pulse. She turned, surveying the room for any sign of Evie when she saw the empty crib and the bloody carrier. 

“Oh my god,” she said, her hand shaking as she lowered her gun. She knelt in front of the carrier, moving the blankets to the side. _Still wet with blood._ She wanted to remain distant, because that was the only way that she could help, but this was Spencer’s baby, and she was… JJ didn’t want to think about it. 

“She’s unconscious and looks like she got into a pretty bad fight, but she’s alive,” Luke said. “Where’s--” He cut himself off, his gaze falling to the blanket in JJ’s hand. “Where’s Evie?”

JJ was going to respond, but the words were lost on her tongue. _Abducted? Dead?_ She didn’t know what the right answer was, and neither was very comforting when she was thinking about having to tell Spencer. A soft groan escaped your lips, and your brows furrowed as your hand shakily moved up to your forehead, feeling the aching bruise beneath the skin. 

“Hey, take it slow,” Luke said, supporting your neck as you struggled to sit up. Your eyes were half-lidded as you struggled to adjust to your surroundings. “Do you know where you are?”

“My apartment,” you said, your voice thick and heavy. “Where’s Evie?”

JJ paused, and an unpalatable silence hung in the air that you could taste on your bloodied tongue. “(Y/N)...” she trailed off, her voice watery and shaky and irritatingly heartbroken.

“Where’s my daughter?” You asked weakly, your bottom lip wavering as you fought a fresh onslaught of tears that you were frankly too exhausted to shed. “Carol…” Your head ached as you tried to remember, your memory spotty. “Carol. I told Spencer that she was scaring me, and then I was here. He told me to get Evie to the FBI Headquarters at Quantico, and that we’d be safe there.”

You paused, remembering the flashes of searing hot pain, of impacts, and the warm taste of copper on your tongue. You remembered doing your best to pack up Evie and the diaper bag so you could leave, you remembered Carol taunting you about saying goodbye, but then you remembered nothing. 

“She’s not here,” Luke said, as gently as he could. You were shaking as he held onto your shoulders, assessing you for injuries as dry sobs wracked your frame. “The good news is that she’s probably alive, or she wouldn’t have been taken.”

You sniffled, glancing over to the bloodied carrier. “That’s not Evie’s blood,” you said suddenly. “I remember her in the doorway.” You pointed with a weak hand. It hurt to remember, your entire skull was screaming in pain as you closed your eyes to focus. “Blood was dripping down her wrist and onto the floor. She must have gotten it on the car seat when she... When she took my baby.”

A wave of nausea washed over you, and you gagged as you leaned forward out of Luke’s reach, heaving onto the floor. “We need to get her to a hospital,” JJ said firmly, only turning away to text Prentiss an update. 

——

 **JJ:** (Y/N) is alive. We’re taking her to the ER. It’s probably just a concussion, but she took a bit of a beating. Evie isn’t here. You need to tell Spencer.

——

Luke helped you stand on wobbly legs, guiding you towards the crib, where you retrieved the knitted blanket Spencer made and clutched it to your chest weakly. You glanced to the floor, shaking your head as you fought the fog in your brain for answers. “Something is missing,” you managed, stopping Luke with an arm across his chest. “I don’t… I know something is wrong.”

You closed your eyes, breathing deeply as you tried to ease yourself back into your memories. You could hear Evie’s wails. She was scared, so were you. Your hands shook as you buckled her in-- her legs kicked at your arms so hard you knew that you would bruise. You covered her with a light blanket, her socks were on so she wouldn’t lose too much heat. 

Your hands shook so badly that it was hard to do much of anything. There were empty bottles in the diaper bag, everything that Evie would need. _A change of clothes?_ That could wait, maybe an extra toy, _not important._

“Saying goodbye?”

You opened your eyes with a start, your heart pounding as you remembered the inflection in her tone, the smug, proud smile on her lips. You couldn’t beat her, and she had taken Evie. _Taken_ …

“She took the bag,” you said finally, pointing to the empty space beside the carrier. “Evie is fine, or why would she have taken it?”

You glanced down at your arms, at the sore spot where you thought the bruise might be. Right in the middle of your forearm, in black marker, were four letters. XX-XY. Lindsey and Scratch. 

Emily looked at Spencer through the glass of the windows, her mouth drawn in a firm line as she remembered the most recent text from JJ. You had made it to a hospital and were being examined, but you seemed to be doing better as time went on. She was glad, she realized, that she would at least have some good news to tell Spencer. 

“Are (Y/N) and Evie safe? What about my mom?” He asked as soon as Emily sat down across from him. “Carol Atkins is just an alias used by Lindsey Vaugh. She’s been nannying for Evie. (Y/N) has the picture. It’s clearly her, and until we find her my family is going to be in danger.”

As soon as he took a breath, he saw the cool exterior of Emily’s facade crack and he _knew_. “What’s wrong?” He asked, his hands clenched into fists atop the table. _Hands must be kept visible at all times_. 

“Your mother is with Tara and Rossi,” she finally said. “(Y/N) is at the hospital getting examined, she’s with Walker. She may have another concussion. And--”

“And Evelyn?” He asked, his voice small, naively hopeful.

“Evelyn and a bag full of her things were missing from the scene.”

“The scene,” he echoed, his voice distant… _angry_. “You mean (Y/N)’s apartment. This isn’t just some random crime, Emily, This is happening to me-- to my _daughter_. Is anyone looking for her?”

“We’ve put an APB on Carol’s car.”

“ _Lindsey’s_ car.”

Emily sighed, trying to keep her patience. “ _Lindsey’s car_. And we’re doing all that we can with what (Y/N) has told us.”

His fingers twitched against the table as he clenched and unclenched his fists, feeling _so much_ at once that it was hard to feel anything at all. “So Lindsey has a head start? She’s smart enough to know to ditch the car, she learned a lot from her dad,” Spencer said, trying his best to stay detached. His fingers fidgeted as he tried to _think_ his way out of this. “If she took a bag, she needs Evelyn alive. And if she _is_ working with scratch, maybe she needs leverage.”

Emily nodded, already having considered all of this herself. She couldn’t tell Spencer that, not when he already felt so helpless being locked away while everyone he cared about was in danger. “Walker and Alvez are out there searching the area for Lindsey’s car on the off chance that she abandoned it nearby. I’m going to talk to the warden about protective custody. If Lindsey is working with Scratch and managed to plant herself in (Y/N)’s life, there’s no telling how much farther they would go to reach you.”

He nodded, but he didn’t really care about himself anymore. He’d easily let Scratch or Lindsey or _whoever_ kill him in here if it meant Evie would be safe. Even if it meant he’d never even get to meet her. Tears dripped onto his hand before he even realized he’d been crying, and he wiped them away with shaking hands. 

He was so, so angry, but more than that he was scared. He’d gone through so much _shit_ for his job. He’d died, he’d been dosed with drugs that plagued him for months, _years_ , afterwards. He had been shot an above average amount. _He’d been framed for murder and sent to prison_. 

And maybe he hated himself for thinking it, but he couldn’t help but wonder why it seemed that all of the _bad_ seemed to accumulate the most on him. He loved his friends, he really did. But he loved his daughter more. He just didn’t understand why this time it couldn’t have been Rossi, or Emily, or anyone but him. 

“Get me out of here, Emily,” he finally said, his voice weak. He couldn’t even meet her gaze as he asked. “Please.”

Emily nodded, but she couldn’t promise anything. Not his freedom, not Evelyn’s safety… not even something as simple as protective custody. She made him a final promise as she walked out, an assurance that they would get Evie back safe and sound, but she didn’t know if she could keep that promise. 

She was let out from the room, and all she could think as she walked down the bleak, gray halls was, _why did it have to be Reid?_

“You need to eat something,” Penelope reminded you as you sulked in Derek’s old office, sitting on the floor near the window where the reception was the best. Luke had promised he would text you any updates he could, but so far there had been nothing. “You’re going to get sick.”

You shrugged off her insistence, staring at the black screen of your phone. You could sense that she was about to say something more, so you broke your gaze to meet her eyes. “Pen, I’m fine. _Please_ go and try to help them find my daughter.”

“I don’t want you to be alone, (Y/N),” she said gently, sitting on the floor beside you. Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to keep from saying something that you would regret. You hated being so unbelievably helpless. “Tell me I can order you something to eat, or at least get you a coffee and I’ll stop bothering you.”

“Coffee sounds good,” you lied, squeezing her hand before she hurried out of the office to fulfill your whim. You stared at the door, watching Cassie and Diana walk past, headed to Prentiss’ office, where they would set up base. It wasn’t a good idea to be around her right now, you knew. You couldn’t pretend that your daughter hadn’t been kidnapped, that _Spencer’s_ daughter hadn’t been kidnapped. 

A part of you, a sick, dark part that you wanted desperately to push into the depths of yourself, wished that you hadn’t warned Cassie and Diana first. Maybe if you hadn’t, Evie would have been in your arms instead of Lindsey’s. You doubted that Lindsey and whoever she was working with had their eyes on Diana, not when Spencer’s daughter was in the picture. But even if she had wanted Diana… you would rather have your daughter. 

It made you feel like a terrible person, and you knew you could never tell Spencer that you were thinking that. You couldn’t even bring yourself to tell Penelope or JJ, even though they might pretend to understand. 

——

 **Luke:** Found Lindsey’s car. Empty bottle in the back seat says that Evelyn is fine and at least her needs are being taken care of. I know that isn’t much. 

**Luke:** Also found a man shot point blank execution style in the same parking lot. It’s paid parking, so we can trace his license and figure out where she’s going. Should also find a trail based on the gun used. Walker and I are heading back that way. 

**(Y/N):** Thank you for telling me. It isn’t much, but it’s more than I had, so it means a lot.

——

Penelope returned with coffee, which she placed on the desk before nodding to her phone. “Luke says that--”

“I know,” you assured, bringing a half-smile to your lips. “I’ll be fine. Go work on finding Lindsey.” She nodded, hurrying out of the room surprisingly fast in her extremely high heels. 

You found a way to occupy yourself in the room for hours, as best as you could given the circumstances. They were working the case, and you couldn’t be a part of that as a civilian, so you just sat there _thinking_ and remembering.

You remembered the way Lindsey’s throat felt beneath your palms, how her lips trembled as you blocked off her airways with each subsequent squeeze. You thought about her flesh beneath your teeth, the warm metallic of blood on your tongue. 

You had long since curled up on the couch that Luke had dragged out of one of the conference rooms, covered in a blanket Penelope kept in her office for when she got cold. JJ had offered you a travel pillow that she always kept in her go-bag, and that was your sleeping arrangement for the night. If you concentrated hard enough, you could convince yourself that you could hear everything they were saying as they tried to find evidence linking Lindsey to Nadie’s death so they could get Spencer out of prison. 

Your phone told you that it was two in the morning, and that you’d spent the better part of your day alone in the dark in an empty office. You had all the makings of an afterthought. You worried at the poorly-knitted edges of Evie’s baby blanket, which was held tightly against your chest. Your eyes had started to ache with the effort to remain awake, or maybe it was also because of the lingering effects of your concussion. Both seemed like the reasonable answer, which was frustrating. 

Your mind wandered to Evie, as it so often had that day. _What was she doing?_ You wondered if she was asleep, if she had the capacity to miss you as much as you missed her. You wondered if Lindsey was taking care of her, or if keeping her alive was just a means to an end. 

You wondered what she was wearing, whether or not her feet were cold, and if Lindsey had warmed her bottle too much before feeding her. There was so much about Evie that you wanted answers about. Had she smiled since she’d been taken? Had she made those soft, cooing noises that she made when she felt particularly cared about?

You fell asleep with those thoughts on your mind, and when you woke up hours and hours later, you forgot about everything for the briefest of moments. You forgot that Evelyn wasn’t around, and that you didn’t need to get her up to feed her. You forgot that you weren’t even at home. You sat up, wrinkling your nose at the stale taste in your mouth and the greasy feel of your skin. 

_10:30 A.M_.. You hadn’t slept that long or that late since Evie was born, and the languidness that filled your consciousness and your bones said as much. As soon as you trudged out of the office, your mouth watered at the smell of freshly brewed coffee. You must have looked a mess, but you didn’t care. It struck you that you hadn’t had anything _except_ coffee for the past day as you took the first sip, sighing with contentment as it warmed you from the inside out.

“Did you sleep okay?” It was Luke, standing behind you at the fridge, where he was refilling his water bottle. 

“Surprisingly, yes,” you admitted as you took another sip, turning to face him. “I didn’t think I could, but I guess the exhaustion caught up to me.” 

“I’m glad you got some rest, I could tell you needed it,” he replied, stirring in some sort of flavoring powder with a metal straw. “The judge is looking over what we sent, we should hear back soon about getting Spencer out..” He took in the sight of you, a furrow in his brow. “Do you want me to drive you back to your place? You could get a change of clothes, some food… whatever you need.”

“I didn’t know I was allowed back there,” you admitted. “Active crime scene and all.”

“Yeah, but as a federal agent, I can get you, the property owner, access to your apartment and belongings,” he explained. “You have a key to Reid’s place, you can shower and get ready there.”

“You should probably stay here though, right?” You asked, chewing on your lip. “I don’t want to take you away from the investigation, Luke.”

“(Y/N), there are enough people focusing on getting Evie back right now. Let me focus on getting you taken care of too. I’ll even make you one of my world-famous omelettes for breakfast.”

So you wound up in Luke Alvez’s car, watching the early morning traffic as the nation’s capital came to life. Part of you felt like the world should have stopped, that if things were so horribly wrong for you, it was just natural for everything else to disappear until things went back to normal. 

But outside the window people ordered coffee and sipped it as they caught a red light, they talked on the phone, already working before they’d even set foot in the office. A woman on the sidewalk pushed her baby in a stroller, a careless smile on her lips as she waited for the crosswalk to indicate that she could continue on her trek. 

Your apartment was still and silent, something that had once been comforting, but felt alien. Nothing felt right without Evie around. “I’m just going to grab some fresh clothes. Help yourself to the fridge.”

Your bedroom was as you’d left it, the bed unkempt from your rush to get to Spencer for your visit, your clothes in a pile on the floor. After a needed shower, you grabbed a tank top and one of the many cardigans of Spencer’s that had started to populate your closet. It was an expensive one, a gift from Rossi, if you remembered correctly. Almost as soon as you got into your jeans, you heard a knock on the bedroom door. 

“Yeah?” You asked, pulling your hair back with a scrunchie. “Is everything okay?”

“JJ called, they’re going to get Reid, they wanted to know if they should stop here and get you f--”  
“ _Yes_ ,” you said quickly, your heart pounding in your chest, yet feeling almost featherlight. “Yes, please tell them that I want to be there. I just… let me finish getting ready. I should get some clothes for Spence, right? Something to change into?”

“I can handle that,” Luke assured you. “And you should eat something so you don’t pass out, by the way.”

 _But there wasn’t time for that_. You waved him off and returned to the mirror, appraising yourself with a frown. There were dark circles under your eyes, and when you peeled the bandage back, the gash there looked angry, despite having been glued back together. 

You wanted to look put together, but it felt like no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t make yourself look like yourself. The _you_ that you were a few days ago, the you from three months ago before everything got so _bad_. 

Spencer had seen you since then, but would he _love you_? Would he love you if he found out that you’d nearly killed Lindsey with your bare hands? If he found out that you would’ve traded his mother’s life for your daughters? If he realized that really you were to blame for letting Lindsey get so close to begin with. 

Your nails broke skin without you realizing it, and warm blood pooled in your fist, flowing from clean crescent shaped indents. _Shit_. You cleaned the marks with soap, wincing only a little, and wrapped your left hand up with gauze, hoping the long sleeves of the sweater would hide the incident from sight. 

“Hey!” Luke called, knocking on the door. “They’re outside, let’s go.”

You cast a final glance towards the mirror and wondered if the foreign face inside was going to be stuck with you forever. You were scared it would, but you hoped it wouldn’t. 

——

The walk felt like the longest you’d ever taken as you followed guards that led you through what felt like a labyrinth. Your heart was racing, thrumming so quickly that you were worried you might pass out before you even got to see him. It struck you that maybe Luke was right about you needing to eat, but it just felt like everything in the world could stop until you had Spencer _and_ Evie back with you. 

The sight of Spencer through the glass of the door made everything else fade away. Your heart was pounding in your ears, and it was like there was tunnel vision clouding everything but _him_. The guard pushed the door open and you were in his arms before you even realized you’d gone to him. 

He was saying something you couldn’t hear, his arms wrapped around you like he was scared someone would steal you away. You were conscious of his lips against the crown of your head, the way his fingers dug into your sweater to bring you closer. Your breath escaped your lungs in uneven bursts, and you realized suddenly that you were crying, and that he was crying, and neither of you wanted to move very much. 

“Hey,” he said softly, bringing your chin up. His thumb ran along your cheeks, wiping away the damp tracks of tears that cut across your skin. “Hey, I’m with you now.”

“She took our baby,” you said weakly, your bottom lip wavering as you looked at him. “She took her, and it’s all my fault, Spence, I’m so sorry.”

His gaze softened as he took you into his arms once more, planting a kiss against your forehead. “You didn’t know what would happen,” he insisted. “You don’t need to apologize for anything, okay?” You sniffled, nodding against his chest. “Do you want to leave now?”

“Yeah, um, Penelope and JJ are outside waiting.” You wiped at your eyes, holding his hand tightly within yours. He squeezed back, and you felt the burden lifting off your shoulders just a bit, like he’d taken some of yours for himself. 

You didn’t leave his side. You helped him change back into the suit he’d worn in court, which felt like a lifetime ago. He could have done it all himself, but you didn’t want to stray too far. The feel of your fingers brushing against his skin was all the comfort you needed. His hair was a mess of curls, his face stubbly like you’d never seen it. It was almost as if he’d aged years in the few months he’d been in there, and it had taken you this long to notice.

By the time you made it into the car, you were struck once again by the heavy burden of melancholy. You pulled his hand into your lap and rested against his shoulder, relishing in his warmth, his presence. You hadn’t realized just how easily you fit against his side, or how you really liked when his hand would randomly squeeze or twitch against your own. There were so many things you hadn’t noticed, or hadn’t cared enough to remember in the time you had known Spencer. So many things that you would make it your mission to memorize from then on. 

“What happened to your hand and your head?” He asked, concern lacing his tone. His voice dropped low, and you were grateful that JJ and Penelope hadn’t seemed to notice. 

“Lindsey kind of grabbed me by my hair and violently slammed me into Evie’s dresser a few times,” you said sheepishly, attempting to brush it off. “And the hand is my own fault. I was anxious about Evie and my nails cut my hand. Don’t worry though, she didn’t make it out unscathed.”

He squeezed your hand gently, bringing your knuckles up to his lips briefly, before putting both of your hands back in your lap. You closed your eyes, feeling strangely content, despite everything. Spencer tugged you even closer, wrapping his arms around you so he could keep you pressed against him. 

“They’ll find her and they’ll find Evie,” Spencer said softly. “You know they won’t stop until they do.”

“I know,” you replied, not bothering to open your eyes. Because in reality, the world was grey. The dusty charcoal color of the seats of the van. The silver of the insulated cup JJ kept her coffee in. The near-black of Spencer’s suit. The looming clouds that threatened rain in the city outside. 

But if you closed your eyes things weren’t all dull and hopeless. There was the blue of Penelope’s outfit. The pink of a blush painting Spencer’s cheeks. The green of Evie’s favorite toy. The pink of chipped nail polish on your fingers. The rainbow in the drops of rain cascading from the sky. 

You closed your eyes and pretended, and when you did that, you found it a little easier to trust his promise. 

Everything was officially out of your hands. As you sat on Spencer’s couch, bundled up in one of his blankets while you stared at the shelves of books directly in front of you, you couldn’t help but lament the fact that both you and Spencer were completely barred from assisting in finding your daughter. 

It was a high risk case, you knew that, but without an agent with you, he couldn’t even look around your own apartment to try to give you any answers. Penelope had been updating you, and you loved her for it, but there was a very real, intense longing in your chest to be out there beside them fighting for your girl. 

“Hungry? Luke called me to tell me you haven’t eaten,” Spencer said, setting a plate of sliced apples in front of you. You sighed, scooting down the couch to make room for him beside you. Diana had been asleep when he returned, and he didn’t want to bother her when she looked so peaceful asleep. 

The apples were tart on your tongue, and you found yourself eating slowly, as even the thought of swallowing the food down was enough to make your stomach turn. It was cowardly, to want to let yourself shut down and close the rest of the world out, but nothing felt right without Evie. 

“Is it strange being out?” You asked, curling into his side. He shrugged, picking at the lint on the cardigan you wore. You could tell he wasn’t very keen on the prospect of admitting the truth, so you gave his arm a comforting squeeze. 

“It feels weird to be wearing these clothes,” he admitted, running his fingers along the sleeve of his own knitted sweater. “They’re too soft. After three months of poorly spun cotton and oversized denim it feels weird against my skin. It’s strange touching you, feeling how warm you are against me. It feels like being in prison left a permanent mess on me that I can’t scrub out.”

He paused, his hands fidgeting nervously. “I washed my hands three times before I thought I was clean enough to cut that apple for you,” he admitted, swallowing hard. “I’m terrified thinking about holding Evie when we get her back, because she’ll be so small and innocent and she deserves better than me.”

You tilted your head up and pressed a kiss to his cheek before leaning your head against his shoulder. “There is nothing you could do or could have done to ruin what I think about you. I love you, _Evie_ loves you. Absolutely unconditionally. You don’t need to be perfect, you just need to be here, emotionally and physically.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice soft as he laid down against the sofa, tugging you down to join him. You sighed contentedly, turning so your face was pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around you comfortingly. He leaned down to kiss the crown of your head, his eyes hooded with the desire to sleep. 

The two of you didn’t wake until Diana did, blinking languidly at the sound of her and Cassie’s footsteps in the bedroom. You gave a muffled groan, burying your face back in Spencer’s warm sweater in protest. He didn’t move, which you figured was solely because he didn’t want to disturb you too much. His hand brushed a fallen lock of your hair back into place, and your lips turned up at the feeling of his fingers against your skin. 

Spencer didn’t like touching people, touching strangers. You liked that he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of you. 

“I really want to marry you,” he said plainly, softly, reverently. Your breath caught, and then the bedroom door was opening and he stood, readjusting you on the couch so he didn’t disturb you. 

You watched dumbfounded as he greeted his mother, hugging her tightly, a warm smile on his lips. Diana caught sight of you behind Spencer and her brow furrowed. 

“Why aren’t you with Evelyn?” 

You swallowed, looking to Spence and Cassie for help as tears welled up in your eyes. You felt like an awful person for only crying then, but being with Spencer was so comforting that you had forgotten how much pain you were in. Spencer’s gaze softened at the sight of you hurting, and he took the fall for you.

“Someone took Evelyn to hurt me,” he explained gently, the corners of his mouth turning down in a wavering frown. His mother had questions, of course she did. _Why would they take her to hurt you? Who would want to do that?_ “They took her because she’s my daughter, and because I wasn’t there to protect her.”

“Your…” she shook her head, clearly confused and uncomfortable with the situation at hand. You could see the guilt in Spencer’s eyes, but you couldn’t make yourself move to comfort him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to upset you or confuse you,” he admitted, seeing the considerable irony as soon as the words escaped his lips. 

You could see the confusion giving way to hurt, and the hurt giving way to anger. You winced as she started yelling at her son, accusing him of lying to her, of trying to trick her. It hadn’t been a good day to start with, and you wondered how many times this same scenario would play out. 

“ _Mother_ , I’m not…” he trailed off, sounding like a hurt child as he attempted to reason with her. “I’m just trying to explain what’s happening to your grandchild.”

He took a step to approach her and was shoved back against the wall, his head colliding with a thud that rattled the framed diplomas on display. You winced, finally released from your stupor so you could go to him. 

“Maybe we should go, honey,” you said softly. “Give your mom some space, yeah?”

He nodded, his jaw set tight as you eased your hand into his, lacing your fingers together. He followed you out, Diana’s confusion making a surreal soundtrack to the moment. In the hallway, you paused, turning him around to feel the back of his head for any knots. He winced, his hand going up to cover the sore spot.

“I’m sorry,” you said gently, sitting down against the wall. He sighed and joined you, his legs stretching out in front of him. “It’s happened to me too a couple of times. It isn’t personal, Spence. You know she loves you more than anything.”

His gaze softened, concern knitting his features. “She hurt you?”

You brushed it off with a shrug, running your thumb along the back of his hands. “A bump here and a scrape there,” you insisted. “I could take it, and I _did_ so she could have some time with her granddaughter, whether she knew it or not.”

He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours gently. You had missed kissing him more than anything— on your own terms, any way you wanted. When you pulled back, you kept your forehead pressed against his, your noses brushing.

“About what you said…”

“How I want to marry you?” You gave a small nod. “I dunno… I guess I had a lot of time to think about it when I was in there. Thinking of you, knowing you were out here waiting for me… that’s what kept me sane.”

“Spence, we haven’t even been dating for a year,” you said gently. “And part of that time you spent in prison. I don’t— I don’t know if it’s the best idea.”

“Was having a kid together a smart decision?” He asked, sitting back against the wall. “We didn’t even really think through the choice before we just… _did it_. And I wouldn’t change it for the world. I haven’t regretted that for a second.”

You sighed, chewing on your lip. You had had a few moments where doubt had overtaken you, but overall the conclusion was the same. There was nothing in the world that could have made you regret the choices that led to Evie. To your _daughter._

“Ask me again when we have our daughter back, okay?” You said with a half-smile. “That isn’t… it isn’t a promise that the answer will be yes. It’s a promise that I’ll think about it before giving you an answer, though.”

He nodded, a smile quirking his lips. Really, that was all he could ask for. Ring or no, he loved you, wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. A piece of paper was nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Your phone buzzed against the wood floor of the hallway, and you frowned as you picked up the call from Emily. 

“Hey,” you said, putting her on speaker so Spencer could hear. “Last I heard you were looking into a property under Lindsey’s alias, is everything alright?”

There was a palpable silence, and your throat felt tight as you waited for Emily to answer. “The house was empty. Lindsey or Evie weren’t there. We’re not even sure if they ever had been.” You sighed, squeezing Spencer’s hand for comfort. “But… Lindsey isn’t with Scratch.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed, confusion coating his features. “How do you know that?”

Emily sighed, her exhaustion evident over the phone. “Lindsey left a video… from Cat Adams. She wants to talk to you. _Both_ of you.”

——

“I don’t understand,” you said, hands shaking as you dressed to leave. “Who the fuck is Cat Adams?”

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his already untamed curls. “An unsub from… maybe a year and a half ago. I didn’t think she was important enough to tell you about. I beat her at her own game. That’s why she’s in prison.”

You shook your head, pinching the bridge of your nose. “If she’s in prison, how could she have arranged all of this? How could she have known about Evie?”

Spencer shook his head, turning towards you so you could adjust his tie. Your hands were shaking, but he covered them with his own. One hand traveled up the expanse of your forearm, brushing over the fading permanent marker letters on your arm. XX-XY. “Oh,” you said softly. “Lindsey wrote it on my arm. Probably to throw us off, make us think she was with Scratch. It’ll wash off.”

He nodded, pulling a sweater over your shoulders. It was his own insistence— he now knew how cold prisons could be. “I’m not leaving you in that room alone. You’re smart enough to handle her, I know you are, but I don’t trust her.”

You nodded, taking a centering breath. “You know her best,” you said with a false sense of confidence. “I’ll follow your lead Spencer, but please don’t do anything stupid. One wrong move and I won’t get to see Evie ever again.”

 _One wrong move and he might never get to meet his daughter_. That thought hung over both of your heads for the car ride, hands intertwined as JJ drove the pair of you towards the prison facility where she was located. Nausea welled up in your stomach as the destination ticked closer and closer on the GPS, your time to prepare dwindling with each mile marker outside. 

“What do I need to know?” You asked, finally brave enough to escape the maelstrom inside of your head.

“She was a hitwoman and I lured her out by pretending to be a man hiring her to kill my pregnant wife,” he said, swallowing hard. You didn’t say anything, but the irony wasn’t lost on you. “She has issues with men, issues with her father, foster fathers. I tricked her into getting into a police van by telling her that I’d found her father and he was inside.”

He sighed, running his hands through his hair again. It fell messily, and you found it strange that it had changed so much in three months. You remembered washing his hair for him, running your fingers through the locks, and you wanted nothing more to be back in that moment. “She won’t lose to me again,” he said plainly. “I don’t know what she has planned, but it won’t just be us who get Evie back. The rest of the team is going to have to listen closely and… and hope we manage to make her slip up.”

Catherine Adams was drumming her nails on the table impatiently as you watched her through the glass of the one way mirror. Her hair was unwashed in appearance, falling stringy in her eyes. There was a wickedness in her that you could just… _sense_. A sense of unshakeable boredom from which the entire plan must have been born. 

“(Y/N), Spencer and I are going in first,” JJ explained, drawing your gaze from the sight of the woman in front of you. You nodded, your fingers worrying at the gauze on your hand. “She’s going to ask where you are, because she was very clear about the fact that she wanted _you_ here. We’re going to hold you back for as long as we can, hoping it throws her off.”

You nodded, because there was little else you could do. Spencer caught your eye from the door, and you swallowed down your fear as you watched him and JJ walk into the room with Cat. 

“Hi, Spencie,” she said, a casual lilt in her voice. The smile that stretched across her lips felt unnatural, almost as unnatural as Spencer’s name passing her lips.

“Where’s Evelyn?” He asked, his jaw clenched as he took in the sight of her. “I don’t care to play games with you, I just want my daughter back.”

“Where’s the fun in that, Spencie… Spence?” She glanced up at him, an amused smile on her lips. “That’s what _she_ calls you, isn’t it?”

“You don’t get to call me that,” he said, his fists clenching at his side. Your nails dug into the gauze on your palm, and you were lucky for the barrier, or you might have reopened the crescent shaped cuts. 

“I think that I can call you whatever I want, considering I’m the one that has a say in whether or not you get to meet your daughter,” she says, kicking the chair out with her foot. “ _But…_ I’ll let her have that one. Doesn’t really roll off the tongue as well, does it? Sit down, Spencie. You have four hours to convince me whether or not I should let your family get their happy little reunion.”

Your teeth dug into your cheek and you tasted blood. It was smart, you realized, to keep you back and let Spencer go in first. You wouldn’t have been able to contain all of the anger within you. You wouldn’t have bitten your cheek until you bled, you would’ve hurt _her_.

You watched her lips moving, but you couldn’t let yourself hear the words. It felt easier to block it all out than to acknowledge that the woman keeping you from your daughter was fucking _batshit_ and had it out for Spencer. The deck was stacked against you and she knew how to count cards. Your teeth dug in again, watching her run her fingers down his face, shutting his eyes. 

She wanted to pretend, to slip away from the monotony. _Had Spencer done that?_ Your stomach turned as you listened to him engaging the fantasy, pretending _so easily_ that you almost hated him for how believable it was. Her name graced his lips so naturally that it felt like it belonged there. 

Red bloomed on the bandage on your hand, and you cursed under your breath as you squeezed your fist tighter, trying to ignore the stinging pain deep beneath your skin. “What if I let your daughter die? Could you hurt me then?” 

It was funny, in a terrible way, that Spencer was insistent that he couldn’t kill Cat, that he couldn’t even hurt her, that he wasn’t that kind of man. Since setting eyes on her, you had already imagined at least seven ways she could die by your hand, using the things available to you in the room. 

_Where did he go?_ Your mind kept going back to him alone in his cell, occupied only by letters and books that he’d already read and pictures of the daughter he couldn’t hold. Had he escaped into memories, into a fantasy where he was home with you? Or somewhere different altogether. 

“(Y/N).” It was JJ beside you again, and you hadn’t even noticed that the door had opened and shut. There was something utterly hypnotic about the scene playing out in front of you— like a trainwreck… or a car crash. “Your hand is bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, shaking your head to clear the fuzzy cloud of thoughts. Cat was trying to rile him up. “I feel like I’m going to pass out, actually.”

It was at that moment that Cat glanced at the mirror, seeming to lock eyes with you through the one-way glass. A smile spread across her face as she raised her voice for a dramatic affect. 

“I think… I asked for one more player,” she said, crooking her finger, inviting you in. “(Y/N)... come out and play. I’d love to meet you.” You paused, looking at JJ who shook her head. _Stay back… make her lose her footing_. “C’mon (Y/N)... the sooner you play and win, the sooner you get to see little Evie…” 

The sing-songy lilt to her voice was teasing, but hypnotic. You couldn’t have said no if you tried, either because of some sick magnetism she had, or the invocation of your daughter’s name. You pushed past JJ and stepped into the room, arms crossed as you took her in. 

“Pull up a chair,” she said, gesturing to the space beside Spencer. You swallowed, dragging the chair across the rough concrete floor with an ear-splitting screech. _You could kill her with this chair… or against the concrete_. Either, you decided, would work. “Now we can talk about the rules.”

“Rules?” You questioned, shifting instinctively closer to Spencer. “What kind of rules?”

She gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes before glancing back at Spencer. “ _Really_ , Spencie, this is the girl you’re settling down with?” When he didn’t respond, she sighed, turning her steely gaze back to you. “ _Rules_ that you both need to follow, or sweet little Evelyn dies.”

Your jaw clenched and you struggled to hold back the anger flooding your veins. _Fists, concrete, chair, table, wall, hands._ The options kept piling up. “She’s a _baby_ ,” you said, your voice shaking with anger. “You could have killed me, why didn’t you?”

“You’re going to be very good at this game,” Cat said, her lips quirking up. “The rules are easy enough for even you to follow, (Y/N)— you ask any question you want and I’ll answer honestly.”

“About what?” Spencer asked. You’d almost forgotten he was beside you. 

Cat’s gaze fell back on you, but her amusement was gone. “I know a secret about _your_ baby daddy,” she said plainly. “One that he’ll never admit, one that you’ll never recognize. And you only get one guess.” She paused, sitting up straighter. “I’m just trying to help you both see _exactly_ who Dr. Spencer Reid is.”

“How long do we have to guess correctly?” You asked, leaning forward, forearms pressing against the cold of the table. She smiled, mimicking your movements, faces impossibly close as she observed you. You held your breath, unable to meet her gaze. 

“I can see why Spencie likes you. You’re a quick study.” Her hands traced along your cheekbones, down the line of your nose, and it took everything within you not to jerk back. “And so pretty… I’m sorry about what Lindsey did to your face. Looks like it hurt.”

“You should see what I did to her,” you bit back, sitting against the metal of the chair.

She sighed, extending her hand with a nod towards Spencer’s watch. He removed it, placing it down on her waiting palm. “You have four hours to guess correctly,” she said, squinting down at the watch face. “And because you’re a _family_ , you get one guess for the both of you to share, so think hard before you try.”

“I already asked a question and you avoided it,” you said, finally meeting her gaze. “You had Lindsey kidnap Evelyn. You knew that wouldn’t just hurt Spencer. It would hurt me too.”

“Did I?” She asked, cocking her head to the side. “Did I know that?”

“You can’t fuck with me,” You said firmly. “I’m not a man, I’m your equal. Answer the question, Cat. Why would you kidnap a three month old baby?”

She gave a lazy shrug, glancing down at her unmanicured nails with a strong sense of boredom. “I don’t know, maybe because you just made it _so_ easy,” she mused. “I think my original plan was to go for Diana… but then Lindsey found out about the sweet, sad pregnant woman across the hall, and after her baby was born, that woman was _more_ than happy to pawn off her child on anyone who would take her for a few hours.”

You swallowed, your eyes burning with unshed tears. Spencer squeezed your hand beneath the table, and any other time it might have helped, but now… now it meant next to nothing because she was _right_. And there was nothing you could even say to defend yourself. 

“Why my mother?” He asked, trailing off as he began to think. “(Y/N) would have been an easier target, and if you knew that my mother was living in my apartment, then you must have known about (Y/N) and the pregnancy, but she was your first choice anyway.” Cat’s silence was palpable as she watched Spencer thinking aloud like a child watches a mouse twitching on a trap. With a morbid sense of curiosity. 

_He isn’t right_ , you realized, just from her expression. Cat Adams was easier to read than you had thought. _He isn’t even asking the right questions_.

“You wanted me thrown in prison just like you were, and you even manipulated my parent because you want to prove that we’re the same.” She yawned, that same bored expression in her gaze as she looked at him. _Not even close_ , but of course he wasn’t. The game hadn’t really even begun. 

“Maybe fatherhood has dulled your senses, Spencie,” she teased, crossing the table to settle in his lap. Her legs crossed, settling partially in your _own_ lap, but the attention was anywhere but on you. “Why don’t I ask you a question… to speed things up?”

You swallowed, glancing back at the mirror as Cat leaned in, brushing her lips along his jaw, around the shell of his ear, by his lips. Her fingers toyed with his collar and slipped down his chest, fiddling with the buttons. “Of all the pain you’ve suffered in your life, _what_ would I capitalize on?” She asked, amusement in her gaze. 

Spencer had so much pain in his life, and that was only what you _knew_. There had been Tobias Hankel, who he’d only opened up to you about three years after he met you. And his issues with his parents reaching back all the way to childhood. Every injury sustained on the job, every life lost in front of his eyes. _Prison, poisoning, Maeve, Gideon_. 

He tried… but he couldn’t guess. She met your gaze as she whispered against his lips, her grin growing as she stood and settled back on the other end of the table. You didn’t need to play her game, you could play outside of the rules and figure it out on your own. You decidedly would not be beaten by Cat Adams. 

“You’re being very quiet, (Y/N),” she noted, raising a brow. “Why don’t you share with the table what’s going on up there?” She tapped the side of her head, and you imagined bashing that exact spot against the corner of the table until it was slick with blood. 

“I’m thinking that I don’t really know why I would be here… unless the secret involved me,” you mused. “Or unless you’re trying to drive a wedge between Spencer and I. Fuck up our family like your father fucked up yours.”

Her gaze went cold and her face fell. It was your turn to smile like the cat who got the cream. “Don’t worry, Catherine. Spencer didn’t spill your secrets. I found out everything on the way in from your file. You were right, I am a quick study.” Her fingers fidgeted against the table, drawing into a fist. “The difference between Spencer and your father is that Spencer would never hurt me or Evelyn by choice. You made that choice for him by having him framed for murder in Mexico and locked away in time to miss the birth of his daughter.”

 _Something you would never admit to or recognize as the truth._ Her words came to the forefront of your mind as soon as the words slipped past your lips. You had done your part at riling her up, but you were far from the mark. 

“Spencer is better at guessing,” she said finally, turning to face him. Spencer squeezed your hand beneath the table. A _thank you_ , An _I’m here_ , A _you’re doing so well_. “All this back and forth… it’s a little exhausting. Why don’t you leave me and Spencie alone for a while and join Blondie in time out?”

You glanced at Spencer, silently asking if he wanted you to stay. With one final squeeze, he let your hand go, and you stood from the table, knowing that Cat was watching you go. JJ was waiting on the other side, holding out a phone. An amber alert for Evelyn. 

“We might be able to intercept Lindsey this way,” she assured. “People pay attention to them. There’s a good chance that we can get through this without having to deal with Cat’s games.”

“Good,” you said firmly, watching her toy with Spencer’s watch. “The sooner she’s back in solitary, the better, isn’t it?”

You stepped closer to the glass, now moved on to scratching at the skin just beneath the cuff of your sweater. Cat stretched out, rolling her neck before sitting forward, her mouth scrunched to the side as she played at thoughtfulness. 

“She’s a bit on edge, isn’t she?” Cat mused, her eyes flicking from his face to the mirror, then back. 

“You’re not the one asking questions,” Spencer said firmly, his fingers tapping anxiously against the metal table. 

“Seems like neither are you, Spencer,” she reminded, tapping the face of the watch with her nail. “I’m just trying to keep from dying of boredom here.”

JJ offered you a bottle of water, and you thanked her with the best smile you could manage under the circumstances. It wasn’t the best— room temperature and a shitty brand— but it helped the tremors subside, and that was really all you could ask for. 

“Love… is that what this is about?” 

Spencer’s voice cut into the room and your breath caught in your throat as you listened. “Love for (Y/N), for my mother, for Evelyn…” He trailed off, his gaze moving directly to her eyes. “Or for you?”

She froze, watching him carefully. Psychopaths weren’t capable of loving someone, you knew that, but the interest with which she listened was more than platonic. Obsessive, maybe, _possessive_. “You want me to admit that I’m actually in love with you,” he mused. 

You took another long drink, palm itching where the old blood was drying against your anxiety-dampened hands. “I’m not delusional,” she replied. 

“Are you sure about that?”

She nodded, an easy smile on her lips. “ _So sure,_ in fact, that I had Lindsey leave a little clue for you and (Y/N)... right before she stole away into the night with little Evelyn Alexandria Catherine Reid. Did you know that, Spence? Did you know that in a way, your daughter was named after me?”

He froze up, shaking his head. “No, I didn’t because you had me falsely imprisoned and I couldn’t be there to see my daughter’s birth certificate get filled out.”

“You weren’t there for a lot, Spencer,” she mused. “First smile, first laugh, first bath… Makes me wonder how much of a father are you?”

“Is that what you want? You want me to tell you that I know I’m _supposed_ to love my daughter, but it feels impossible considering the fact that I’ve never even held her? That I feel no connection to her except this intense guilt that I wasn’t around?”

You swallowed, glancing back at JJ. “He doesn’t mean that,” she insisted, a soothing hand on your back. “He’s just trying to say what she wants to hear.”

You should’ve been able to tell if he was lying, but your judgement was clouded and you couldn’t tell truth from fiction. You tossed the emptied water bottle into the trash, turning from the sight of Cat and Spencer sitting across from each other at the table. Your fingers dug into a table at the back of the small room, knuckles white as you took a centering breath. 

“I had Lindsey leave you a clue,” Cat said , ringing through the room on the speakers. “Well, I guess she left it for (Y/N), or _on_ (Y/N).” You pulled your sleeve up, looking at the fading permanent marker against your skin. “I just didn’t want you to come all the way down here and guess until I was positive. Until I _tested_ positive.”

“What, you’re pregnant?” Spencer asked. You’d remembered those words escaping his lips a year ago. _You’re pregnant, we’re actually having a baby_. He’d been so _happy_. He wanted nothing more than to be a dad, and right in the home stretch that chance was taken away. 

Cat sat up straighter, a hand settling on her stomach, mirroring that stereotypical, instinctive position that you’d found yourself making months ago. “ _We’re_ pregnant.”

Your heart felt like it had stopped. There was ice in your veins, buzzing in your ears. Nausea welled up in your stomach, threatening to spill past your lips.

“Sweet little Evie is going to have a sister… _or_ brother. I hope it’s a sister, I don’t really do well with boys.”

“That’s impossible,” Spencer said firmly. “We never…”

Everything stopped as you listened, the world freezing and thawing and melting away entirely as she explained _how_ she did it. 

It wasn’t long before you didn’t want to hear any more. Before JJ could stop you, you were walking as far away as you could get, your footsteps seeming to echo in the grim, grey hallway. It was practically a maze. You stopped when you finally felt far enough away that Cat’s voice stopped playing over and over in your mind. 

You slumped against the wall, burying your head in your hands as you tried to let your breathing regulate. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you let everything hit you at once — your rage, the grief, your pain. There was this intense pressure in your chest, the urge to scream and make noise… tO release every awful feeling in your heart. 

“(Y/N).” It was Spencer, standing on the other end of the hall. You practically threw yourself into his arms, burying your face in his chest as sobs wracked your body. He rubbed your back, holding you against him. “She’s lying. I _know_ there’s no way that her baby is mine.”

You blinked back tears, feeling the sticky trail of them beneath your chin. “And if it is?” You asked, your voice thick with tears. “Spencer, she’s threatening _our_ daughter right now. And I’m terrified that we won’t be able to win this game.”

“We won’t let her,” he insisted, bending down to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “JJ told you they put out an amber?” You nodded and he gave a halfway-convincing smile. “See? Nothing to worry about, alright? We’re going to get Evie back, with or without Cat.” 

He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours gently. Your mouth was salty with tears, but he didn’t seem to mind. With one last brush of his thumb against your cheeks, and one final meaningful look, he nodded back down the hallway. “Will you come back with me? Follow my lead and help me do this?”

You knew he didn’t want to say, but he couldn’t face Cat alone. Not just that he _couldn’t_ , but he didn’t want to. “Whatever you need,” you insisted, falling into stride beside him. 

Cat was waiting impatiently when you both stepped back into the room. She leaned against her hands, eyes trained on you as you settled in the metal chair in front of her. Spencer stood behind you, nearest to the mirror. 

“Welcome back to the fray, (Y/N),” she said, her lips turning up in a grin. “I’m sure you’ve heard the happy news.”

“Demented, fucked up, batshit crazy… not really happy, Cat,” you replied, narrowing your eyes at her. “What kind of person _does that_ to someone, gets pregnant with their kid, then kidnaps and threatens that man’s child?”

“That’s not very nice, (Y/N),” She chides, cocking her head to the side to take you in. “How long did it take Spencer to knock you up? Months? A little over the average time, right? Enough time that you started wondering if it was ever going to happen.” Your jaw clenched and you swallowed, saying nothing. “It’s funny, isn’t it, that all it took was _once_ for me.”

“Once, maybe. But you only have six more months to gloat,” you replied coolly, your heart pounding with untapped energy in your chest. “I promise you if you’re telling the truth about Spencer being the father, which I don’t think you are, you will never even get to look at your baby before the doctors take them away and bring them to us.”

Her jaw ticked and you gave a saccharine smile. “You should feel lucky, Cat,” you said, reaching forward to brush a lock of messy hair behind her ear, knowing she couldn’t do anything to hurt you. “Knowing that your baby would be raised by two people who are better than you in every conceivable way. Mothers always want the best for their child.”

Cat swallowed, her face twitching with thinly concealed rage. “No —”

“(Y/N) is right,” Spencer said firmly, cutting her off before she could finish. “You don’t want a child, and you don’t want to be a mother. This baby is a means to an end.”

“Which is?”

“Keeping us here playing your game, toying with us… so I don’t see what I should’ve seen hours ago.” Your brows furrowed as you turned to Spencer, giving an incredulous shake of your head. “Evie is probably already dead.”

“ _No_ ,” you and Cat both said, almost at the same time. You grabbed his arm, tugging on his suit jacket. “ _Spencer_ , you can’t say that.”

“Let’s go, (Y/N),” he said firmly. “We’re not going to continue playing this game.”

“She’s not dead,” Cat insisted, her voice bordering on frenzied. “She’s not. I wouldn’t cheat, that’s your thing, remember?”

He grabbed your arm, tapping his middle finger against your skin in a pattern, over and over as he guided you towards the door. T-R-U-S-T-M-E. Morse Code. You used it to talk beneath tables at precincts and work, or through walls at the hotels at night to convey case details without waking your roommate. 

“Goodbye, Cat.”

Your breath came a little easier as he opened the door, guiding you through with a firm hand on your back before Cat spoke up. “ _Wait_ ,” she said, just before Spencer could go through the door. “I’ll call Lindsey. She’ll put Evelyn on the phone.”

You froze, meeting JJ’s gaze with a thinly veiled smile. Spencer turned, pulling his phone from his pocket as JJ dialed Penelope. You shut the door, following Spencer back to the table, watching as Cat dialed Lindsey’s number. 

She locked eyes with you as Lindsey answered the phone, the line busy and fuzzy as she presumably moved on the other end. You could hear Evelyn, her cries distant but clear. _Your daughter._ You stepped forward and Cat held a finger up, listening to Lindsey on the other end. “You’re early. Has he already guessed?”

“Not yet. They want to hear that Evelyn is alive.”

“Fine,” Lindsey said with a huff, tossing something onto the ground. You heard a car door opening, then Evie’s cries loud on the phone. You took the phone from Cat, holding it up to your ear, heart hammering as you listened to her. It was all too brief, cut off by the sound of a gunshot and the abrupt silence that followed as the line went dead. 

You dropped the phone onto the concrete floor, curling into yourself as a shaky cry escaped you. “What did she do?” You asked, voice shaking with rage and grief.

Cat averted her gaze, sparing only fleeting glances as she shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“Yes you do,” you said firmly, stepping towards the table. “Did Lindsey just kill Evelyn?”

“I don’t know,” she insisted. You grabbed her chin in your hand, pulling her gaze to yours, sure to leave bruises. “ _I don’t know_ what Lindsey did. What I do know is that I don’t care about your daughter, and if she’s dead now, or she’s dead at the end of the night it’s probably for the best. Anyone would be better off dead than to have you as a mother.” 

You stepped back like she’d hit you, hands were shaking as you released your grip on her face. Instantly, she rubbed at her jaw, a cold sneer on her face as she turned to Spencer. “And you… what do you bring to a kid except a predisposition for schizophrenia and terrible genetic makeup? If Lindsey was smart, she would’ve killed her to begin with to save her from the dark, meaningless life that you created for her just by knocking up your little girlfriend.”

Spencer was moving before you even had time to _think_ about how much her words would hurt him. The table scraped against the concrete floor, and Cat was pinned against the wall with his hands around her throat. You didn’t move, almost entranced by the sight. A part of you wished that _you_ were the one with her life in your hands, squeezing until her lips turned blue. 

Weak gasps escaped her lips as she struggled to breathe, clawing at his hands. JJ tried to pull him off, reminding him over and over that Cat was pregnant, but she couldn’t convince him, couldn’t make him budge. Not at first, not until Cat looked over at you. 

He dropped his hands suddenly, the lightest twitch in his fingers as he stepped back, glancing over at you with an expression filled with shame. There wasn’t any need for that, though. If he hadn’t done it, you would have, and you wouldn’t have let go. 

——

You found Spencer in the hallway, making himself as small as he could as he sat on the floor with his back against the wall. You sat down beside him, leaning onto his shoulder. He was staring at his hands, his gaze locked on them as he sat there. 

“Hey,” you said softly, covering his hands with your own. The silence was palpable between the two of you, and you knew he couldn’t stop replaying that moment, that _feeling_ in his mind. “You don’t have to be sorry, Spencer. Not even a little bit.” 

“I don’t want to be _that_ person,” he said, his voice watery and weak. You leaned up, pressing your lips against his cheek and he turned away. “The person you saw in there, the person who didn’t even care that she was pregnant and just…” He shook his head. “I don’t want to be _that_.”

“Then don’t be,” you said plainly, giving his hands a squeeze. “You are the best man I know. The smartest and the _kindest_. You are good for the sake of being good.”

“But when I was in prison I—”

“It doesn’t matter what you did in there to survive. That’s the past. What just happened with Cat? It’s in the past too,” you paused, swallowing down the dread in your stomach. “And you don’t need to worry because I would’ve done the same thing,” you said finally, trying to fight the shame at admitting it to Spencer. “Except I wouldn’t have let go and I wouldn’t have stopped. I would have killed her and I wouldn’t have felt bad.”

He swallowed, looking at you with an unreadable expression. Maybe it was awe, or admiration, or disgust. You weren’t sure you cared to clarify, so you just shook your head, hoping that he would forget it, or at least pretend it was normal. “If I find out that our daughter is dead, you or JJ won’t be able to stop me. And I won’t want you to, do you hear me? On top of _everything_ that she did to you, if she caused our daughter’s death, she will not live to see sunrise.”

“You don’t mean that,” Spencer said, his voice soft and affected. “You know that it wouldn’t make you feel any better.”

A wry laugh escaped you as you shook your head. “No, it wouldn’t make me feel any better. Every psychological study testing it has proved otherwise,” you admitted. “But it wouldn’t make me feel any worse than losing Evie would, would it?. You aren’t a bad person because you wanted to hurt Cat. Because if you are, I am too, and—”

JJ practically ran into the hallway, a phone held up to her ear. “Only one body at the scene,” she explained. “A white male in his late 20’s who called in about the amber. Evie wasn’t there, neither were any of her things, so we have to believe that she’s safe.”

Tears trailed down your cheeks at the news, at the sheer relief of knowing that your girl was still out there, that there was still something to fight for. As soon as they fell, you wiped them away. There would be time for the grateful tears later. For now, you still had a game to play. “I love you, Spencer Reid,” you said gently. “Nothing about what has happened over the past twenty-four hours or three months has or will change that for me. And… I hope after all of this you can say the same.”

He turned to face you, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. JJ knocked against the wall, drawing your gazes up. “Do you mind if I talk to Spence?” 

YOu placed one more kiss on his cheek and stood, squeezing his hand a final time before you returned to the mirror in the viewing chamber, watching Cat twist the watch around and around her fingers. Your fingers tapped against a thin metal table as you watched her, like staring her down through the one way glass could teach you everything you needed to know about all the bad that humanity was capable of. 

It was natural to be out of practice after the years since your resignation, but there was so much about Cat that was so _obvious_. A weakness in every movement, in those moments of self-doubt in her time alone. The smallest waver in her brow, the downward tilt of her lips. So much was riding on her victory. She had everything to gain and everything to lose. Her entire sense of self was on the line, and you were prepared to sever it.

The sound of footsteps behind you made you turn and you saw Spencer’s hasty run as he barreled into the room, making a beeline for you. 

“I figured it out,” Spencer said, a breathless grin on his lips as he settled in front of you. He leaned down to place a kiss on your lips, holding your face in his hands. “Whatever you hear me say, it’s all to get Evie back. I love you. I _still_ love you after the past three months, and I’ll love you for every single month after. And I love our daughter, and as soon as she’s back I think we should take a really long vacation.”

“Yeah?” You asked, peering up at him.

“Yeah. Maybe to the mountains where it’s cold… or to the beach,” he paused, giving you one last kiss. “We’ll figure it out when she’s back with us. I love you.”

And like that, he turned to the door, sobered up, and joined Cat back at the table, leaving you to lean against the glass and _watch_. 

“Dance with me,” Spencer said, extending a hand. 

“Why?”

He sighed, glancing back towards the mirror, almost meeting your gaze. “Because I don’t want (Y/N) to hear what I’m going to say next.”

A smile quirks up your lips as you watch, no longer threatened by the sight of the woman _so small_ that she orchestrated all of this to feel important, to feel powerful. JJ had already sent the feed through to Garcia so the entire team could see what was going on. 

You watched the way her hand lay flat against his chest, how her head nestled against his shoulder as he asked questions to lead him to the information that the team needed. Spencer, _your Spencer_ , was smart enough to handle her. The way he assuaged her so easily, knowing just the right things to say to guide himself towards the reactions he wanted. 

“The team is on their way,” JJ assured, rubbing your back as you both watched the scene in front of you. “Spencer knows what he’s doing, and so do they. You’ll have Evelyn back before long.”

But just as soon as the comforting words escaped the blonde’s lips, scarier one ones left Cat’s. “They’re walking into a trap.”

 _His guess_. You were both so close, but the reality of it was terrifying. He had to guess, the team had to walk out alive with your baby… there was so much that wasn’t certain. Your bottom lip was so bitten that your mouth tasted metallic with blood.

His words echoed in your mind. _I wish it were mine. We deserve each other_. 

JJ held up her phone, showing the call Garcia had patched her in on with Lindsey on the other end, watching everything Spencer was saying. You watched her expression, the way it faltered as Spencer finished his guess. _A correct guess._ Cat hadn’t let her in on everything, and especially not the details about the baby.

An hour ago you would have been nervous, but the realization hit you suddenly. You all had beat Cat Adams and you would be back with your daughter soon. Spencer would _meet_ his daughter soon. 

The _second_ you were sure Lindsey was in handcuffs, you rushed in the room, smiling at Spencer. “Evie’s okay, not a scratch on her,” you explained. “They’re bringing her back to the bullpen, Spence.” You cast a glance towards Cat, who had hung up the phone and had what you presumed to be frustrated tears streaking her face. 

There were a million things you wanted to say, but there was nothing to properly convey just how _vindicated_ you felt. You figured that the sheer relief and joy on your face said enough. 

“We do deserve each other, by the way,” Cat finally said, looking at Spencer with an expression that said her game wasn’t over, at least not for her. 

Spencer stepped forward like he was about to say something, but you tugged his sleeve. “Spence, she isn’t worth your time anymore.” you said firmly . “Grab your watch, and let’s get back.”

Spencer’s hands were shaking during the elevator ride up, knowing that he was moments away from holding his daughter for the first time. Your own heart was pounding in your chest with the anticipation of having your daughter safe in your arms again.

“Does she have any sensory problems? Will my jacket be too itchy?”

“None that I’ve noticed,” you reassured, fixing his unruly hair. “Your jacket is fine and _you’ll_ be fine as long as you don’t drop her.”

He nodded, bringing a nervous smile to his lips as he pulled you into his arms for the final few moments before the elevator stopped and the doors opened. As soon as it pushed open, you were greeted by the rest of the team waiting, but you were only looking for your daughter. 

“Hey, Evie, look who’s here,” Luke said, his goddaughter cradled against his chest. You watched her tiny hands grabbing at his shirt, your eyes welling with tears as you practically ran over to claim her from him. 

Evie fit perfectly in your arms, her wide eyes looking up at you as soft noises escaped her lips. You smiled, placing gentle kisses onto her head. For a long moment, you just held her and _breathed_ , and it felt like the first gasp of air after drowning. You had _time_ though, all the time in the world, and it was okay to part from her for a little. 

Spencer was behind you, watching your daughter as she yawned sleepily in your arms, exhausted from a more than traumatic day. Spencer looked at you, tears in his eyes as you moved in front of him. “It’s about time you meet your daughter, Spence.”

He was careful as he took her into his arms, holding her like the most precious piece of porcelain in the world. Delicate and beautiful, something that it’s hard to feel worthy to touch. Evie squirmed in his arms, her hands grabbing at his tie and his long locks. He winced, laughter and tears escaping in equal amounts. “She’s so beautiful,” he said, his voice watery as he looked over at you. 

“Yeah, she really is,” you mused, leaning your head onto his shoulder. “She favors you, don’t you think? Something about her nose and mouth.”

“You think so?” He asked softly, leaning down to kiss her forehead. When you nodded he smiled more than you’d ever seen him. “ _God_ , she’s perfect. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more incredible than she is.”

When you looked up, you realized that the entire team had left, giving you both a moment alone with your daughter. You pressed your lips to his cheek and he grinned, looking over at you as Evie fell asleep in his arms. 

“I _do_ want to marry you,” you said finally, meeting his gaze. “Having you back after the past three months just told me how much I need you to be in my life. It doesn’t matter when it happens, I just want you to know that it _will_ happen. I told you the first day I met you, Spence. You’ll have a lot of trouble getting rid of me.”

He smiled, tears glistening in his eyes, your own blurring the sight until you blinked them away and down your cheeks. “Yeah?” He asked. 

“ _Yeah_ ,” you replied, nodding to the elevator. “Now let’s all go home. I think we’ve all earned a break.”


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eventually, you two get good at keeping promises.

**summary: eventually, you two get good at keeping promises.**

Spencer had fallen asleep in Evie’s bedroom again, sitting in the rocking chair closest to her crib, a baby book clutched to his chest. The sun was already peeking in through the windows, and you bundled your robe around yourself as you woke him with a gentle kiss. 

“Wake up sleepyhead,” you said gently, keeping your voice down so you didn’t wake your daughter. “We’ve still got an hour or two before she wakes up, do you want a cup of coffee?”

He scrunched his nose at the daylight outside and made a move to grab his glasses from the dressing table beside him before he joined you in quietly sneaking from the room. Scruff had grown on his face, and a dopey grin spread across his lips before he bent down to give you a chaste, sleepy kiss. 

“Can we have it on the porch?” He asked, following you down the hall into the kitchen, where two steaming mugs of coffee waited for both of you. You nodded, slipping on a pair of house shoes as you pushed open the back door and sat down on the patio furniture. He joined you with a contented sigh, placing the baby monitor he’d taken from the kitchen onto the table in front of both of you. 

There was a chill in the air as you looked out at the mountain landscape before you, almost moaning at the taste of hot coffee after a restless night. Spencer scratched at his face, which still had an imprint from the wooden rocking chair he’d fallen asleep leaning against. His mug clinked against the glass table and he turned, taking your left hand in his so he could run his thumb over the pretty engagement ring he’d bought you. 

A smile quirked up his lips and you rolled your eyes with a grin as you swallowed down a mouthful of your drink. “Admiring Rossi’s taste in jewelry?” You asked, a grin spreading across your features. 

He shook his head, a blush darkening his cheeks. “He didn’t pick it out,” he said sheepishly, giving you a pointed look. “He just… told me where to go and what section to look at.” You smiled, kissing his cheek before snuggling against his side. “And he let us stay _here_ for as long as we want, which was nice.”

You laughed, the sound almost deafening in the peaceful quiet of the mountainside. “If I had known before that David Rossi owned a cabin in the mountains…” You paused, squeezing his hand. “Well, I would’ve begged him constantly to let me stay there, and that’s probably why he kept it a secret in the first place.”

It had been three weeks since Evie was taken and since Spencer was released from prison, and things had become… comfortable. You were doing your lectures online as best as you could, which required a lot of filming videos and the occasional cameo from Spencer and Evelyn as you juggled your family and your career. 

Evelyn had grown to love Spencer more than he even thought possible. There were nights where Spencer would just read book after book to Evie, who listened with wide eyes to the cadence of his voice and the theatrical way he read children’s books until she fell asleep, drooling on his chest. Spencer was eager to step up and give her bottles, change her, help with baths. Anything you needed that had been exhausting for those first three months alone, he was eager to do. 

He had been the one to notice that Evie’s head was misshapen at only four months, a fact that he attributed to Lindsey not knowing anything about childcare, or the fact that if a baby favors one side of their head, it grows flatter. The doctor gave her a helmet to help fix the growth process, and Spencer just about fell in love all over again. The rest of the team and all of the former members got just about five pictures an hour of Evie in her little green helmet with the sparkly frog stickers on it. 

But Spencer had his moments too. Moments of quiet, or those nights when you’d reach out to hold him closer and he would flinch away for just a moment before melting back into you. Nothing was particularly _easy_ about being back-- better, but not easy. He wanted to tell you everything, but he didn’t know how, and there was still so much that he was ashamed of. 

You turned, running your fingers through his hair as birdsong drifted through the air. He was quiet-- thinking through something that you weren’t privy to. He turned to face you, a smile on his lips as he took in the sight of you; sleepy and unkempt, but every bit of the _you_ he loved so much. 

“I think I want to leave the BAU,” he said finally, turning to face you completely. Your mouth dropped open, brows drawn together as you tried to comprehend what you had heard him say. 

“Spencer you can’t be serious,” you said, squeezing his hands in yours. “You _love_ working at the BAU. You’ve always considered the team family.”

He nodded, a pensive frown on his face as he took in your words. “I know, but I love you and I love Evie more,” he explained. “After everything… I don’t know if I can just go back like everything is normal. I don’t know if I can just… be away from her for days at a time when my job already made me miss so much right at the beginning.”

Spencer sighed, reaching up to run his thumb along the line of your jaw, his touch soft and reassuring. “They were my family when I needed them, especially when I thought I had nothing. And they always will be, in a way. But now that I have you and Evie, I have a _real_ family that I want to put before anything else.”

You sighed, realizing just _how much_ Spencer was prepared to give away for you, for your _family._ “I don’t expect you to,” you insisted. “I don’t want you to wake up three years from now and regret leaving that behind.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll always miss it,” he admitted. “And maybe I can keep consulting on some cases or contribute in some small way, but I know what I want now.” A goofy smile spread across his lips as he poked your side. “I want to wake up every morning in the same house as my two girls and burn the pancakes for breakfast.”

A laugh escaped you, and you realized just how _easy_ everything had been with Spence for the past few weeks— no work (at least not like you were used to), no Cat, no Lindsey, no early flights or interruptions.

“What job will you grace the world with next, Dr. Reid? I can see museum curator… librarian… maybe a model if you learn how to style that mane of yours.”

He laughed, shaking his head to redistribute his curls. “I think, at least for now, I’ll be happy to have stay-at-home dad as my job title.” As if on cue, Evie’s cooing sounded over the monitor and you sighed, preparing to get up. “You stay,” Spencer insisted. “Finish that coffee and I’ll bring sweet pea out for a little fresh air.”

He leaned down, pressing a sweet kiss onto your lips before stepping back into the house. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you retrieved it to find texts from both Penelope and Luke, who were practically demanding vacation updates and pictures of Evie. 

You locked your phone, checking your reflection in the mirrored surface with a sigh. The tiny scar from fainting with Evie was small, but the scar Lindsey had left was still substantial. Both would fade with time, at least you hoped the latter would. 

The first was a reminder of those awful moments before you admitted that it was okay to love and let yourself be loved, and the latter was evidence of just how bad things got when Spencer was away. You brushed your hair back over your forehead and grinned at the sight of Spencer carrying Evie out with a bottle in his hand.

Fatherhood suited him, you decided. He had jumped right in like he hadn’t missed a moment— so easily finding that natural balance between himself and his daughter, though too often he let the scales tip towards her and you had to jump in. You snuggled against his side, watching Evie drinking down her bottle with fluttering lashes. 

“Her helmet _does_ look really cute,” you conceded, reaching over to run your thumb over her chubby little cheek. “She should be happy, really. I’m sure she inherited your clumsy genes.”

He gasped, looking over with an incredulous expression. “Clumsiness is _not_ inherited!” He insisted, maybe a bit too loudly, because Evie let her gaze widen up at the two of you before she went right back to enjoying her bottle. “There have been genetic links to athleticism in general, but not to clumsiness. You _should_ be worried about her inheriting _your_ bad poker face and inability to sleep before 2 am. Both facial expressions _and_ sleeping habits are inherited.”

You rolled your eyes, a grin spreading on your lips. _There_ was your Spencer. “Do you think one day we’ll have another one?” You asked, leaning onto his shoulder with a contented smile. “I think she’d be the best big sister, you know? I can imagine her having a brother so easily.”

Spencer smiled, turning to look at you with nothing but awe in his expression. He was sure he had never felt so much love in his life. For you, for Evelyn, for the idea of a future that both of you would share. But for all the things he knew, he couldn’t figure out the proper way to convey everything he felt in that moment, so he just nodded, a dopey grin on his lips. 

“I think so too.”

You kissed him like it was the first and the last time, and he kissed you just the same. 

**_Three years later_ ** **.**

There were pancakes burning in the kitchen, which was thinly masked by the pumpkin scented candles that had been lit in the living room. You squinted at the daylight in your bedroom, tugging on a robe before you trudged into the bathroom to brush your teeth and make yourself look even a little presentable. 

_Another_ sleepless night. Evie demanded book after book, and had only slept after you surpassed fifteen, and Spencer, bless his heart, had been up in the study working on an article about the effect of internet access on sexual sadism. Breakfast, you supposed, was an apology of sorts, even though it smelled as though you would all wind up eating cereal. 

“Good morning!” You called, signaling your arrival as you walked through the living room. You heard whispering in the kitchen, Evie most notably, because she was never great at subtlety. “Hmm… if no one’s home with me I guess I’ll just have to watch this show about the rainforest all by myself.” You raised your voice to be heard over the sound of the griddle as you powered on the TV, which had its channel almost permanently set to National Geographic so Evie could watch her animal documentaries. 

Right on cue, you heard her tiny feet against the hardwood floors as she launched herself into the living room and around your legs. You lifted her with ease, smiling as you held her against your chest. “I knew you wouldn’t make mama watch this all alone.”

“Daddy’s making breakfast!” She said, and her excitement at even the most trivial things made your heart soar. 

“Oh yeah?” You questioned, setting her beside you on the couch. “Because it sounds to me like daddy’s _burning_ breakfast.” She giggled, snuggling up in your lap as you grabbed a blanket from the end of the couch to bundle you both in. 

It was fifteen minutes of watching high stakes animal chases in the amazon with Evelyn before Spencer made it into the living room, holding two bowls of cereal in his hands. You grinned up at him and he sighed, flour dusting his shirt, nose, and hair. “Remember when you were good at baking?” You mused as you took the bowl into your arms, taking an eager bite. 

“I remember desperately wanting to impress you with my baking skills,” he replied, grabbing Evie’s hand so he could ease her off your lap and in front of a TV tray. “We’re married now, so you get cereal on Saturdays and fancy baked goods on holidays and anniversaries.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him back to the kitchen to make his own breakfast. Evie was eating patiently, careful not to spill anything onto the tray, her lap, or the sofa. She shared Spencer’s aversion for messes, something you were both keeping a careful eye on. 

“What’s anniversary?” She asked before shoveling another spoonful of cereal into her mouth. 

“Well, me and daddy got married last December, right?” You asked. She nodded around chipmunk cheeks of food. “Well, this December will be the anniversary of that. It’s just like you have _your_ birthday every year on the same day, only it’s a birthday for something that happened instead of a person.”

She nodded, a pensive expression on her face before she continued eating, either out of disinterest of apparent satisfaction with your answer. Spencer settled on the couch beside you, pressing his lips to your cheek sweetly before turning back to his own bowl of cereal. 

“Hey, Evie, did you know that in native Amazonian, capybaras are called _kapiyva_? Do you want to guess what that means?” Spencer asked, leaning forward to catch her eye. 

“Um…” Evie trailed off, her mouth twisted to the side as she thought. “ _Sweetie_.”

Spencer grinned, but gave a small shake of his head. “Actually it means _master of the grasses_ , but I think I like yours better sweet pea.” Evie grinned triumphantly and went back to eating. 

After Evie finished, she hopped from the couch and settled on the floor in front of the sofa, laying back to watch TV from the floor. You turned to Spence, whispering quietly for a moment of near solitude while she was occupied. “How much good news can you take right now?” You asked. 

His brows furrowed and he shrugged, a smile playing on his lips. . “I’ll take anything you can give.”

You took a breath, unable to hide your smile. “I’m pregnant.”

His eyes went wide as he looked at you, his smile only growing as he took in the sight of you, piecing together memories and things that should have given him the hint over the past month. “You’re… again? We weren’t even trying, and last time it took so long that I just thought that maybe—” He shook his head, cutting himself off. “I love you.”

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his. “I love you too, Spence,” you said, running your fingers through his hair. “This time, you’ll get to be here for all of it, good and bad. Think you can handle that?”

“Are you asking if I’ll get imprisoned again?” He asked. “I promise I won’t.” He tapped on the ring on your left hand, pressing his lips to yours briefly. “And I think we’re pretty good at those now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! You can find me @catsadams on tumblr! I'd love to know your thoughts, if you'd be so kind to comment or leave kudos!


End file.
